


Morphine

by nicoleiacross



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Espionage, M/M, Reunions, Tags May Change, Undercover Missions, Underground Fighting Ring AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleiacross/pseuds/nicoleiacross
Summary: [Underground Fight Ring AU]When Gladio and Noctis went missing three years ago, no one seemed to have answers.Three years of training and a twenty-five year old Ignis finds himself in what feels like a losing battle to bring them home. This wasnotwhere he saw himself when he got his medical license; but, if it helps any? He'll do it.♠♥ The Official Start To Finish Collaboration withheyjealousy♥ Be sure to check outGiantswhen you've a free moment, to get the full experience ♥





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Giants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492) by [liziscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/pseuds/liziscribbles). 



> Tekken 7 spawned a thing and I'm super excited to announce an Official Start To Finish Collaboration with [heyjealousy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjealousy) ♥! She'll be handling Promptis focus, while I'm here to deliver Gladnis feels! 
> 
> Be sure to check out [Giants](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492/chapters/29155044) when you've a free moment!

Ignis lets out a slow, strained breath when the bodies are brought in and looks between the 'medics'.

"I am a doctor, gentlemen. Not a coroner."

The simultaneous shrugs he receives, body bags still lying on the rickety beds he uses for patients, tells him all he needs to know just before the pair leave. He lets out another breath before glancing at the body bags. This is the absolute last thing he needs today. The worst part about this entire situation, never mind the body bags, is that he's getting _used_ to these things.

He remembers when he first came to Niflheim. He remembers fighting down physical repulsion to the sights and scents around him and the nigh unhealthy reliance he'd developed on his gloves in a matter of hours. Perhaps the worst part was meeting with his uncle after nearly ten years. He still isn't entirely sure why the man left Lucis or _why_ in all six of the gods names he'd moved to _Niflheim_ of all places… but, that was neither here nor now. Not anymore, at any rate. He had assisted Ignis in getting what he desired and… if there were any suspicions, nothing had been thrown his way quite yet.

So far as his uncle and that group of contacts were concerned, Ignis had left the comfort of Insomnia—of Lucis, altogether—for a change of pace. To cope with a broken heart. Whether or not they knew the truth… that was another matter. It made his occupation a bit… troublesome, at times. Being one of two doctors willing to treat the non-Nifilian fighters. And, if they ever figure out why he's _really_ in this gods forsaken frozen wasteland... it's not just his life he needs to worry about.

"Specs, can I get—what the fuck are those?"

Sheer will power is the only thing keeping Ignis from startling and he merely throws an annoyed scowl at the door. "You are permitted to _nothing_ until you remember to mind your tongue."

This he's still getting used to. The clinic isn't safe. As much as he wants it to be, he's highly suspicious of the place being bugged and it's not as though he can just sweep the place for such technology. He got away with sweeping his apartment; but, even that ended in his uncle questioning his motives. The issue had been closed with Ignis insisting the paranoia made it harder to sleep than it already was. Not a lie and it got him his desired privacy. Privacy he could use to his advantage with certain patients.

It takes more effort than he cares to maintain a steady glare. Gladio throws him a startled look before it settles in and he gives a slow nod. "Bad day in the office, doc? S'not even that late in the day, yet."

The indifference is perhaps the worst part. It's pretending they hate each other, when Ignis would much rather fuss over his injuries as though they were back in Insomnia. When Ignis would rather pretend he didn't know what he did.

When Gladio and Noctis had gone missing, their fathers had refused to entertain any questions on the matter. Prompto and Ignis were both turned away, multiple times. Prompto, more often. Ignis had the fortunate misfortune of having Mr. Armaugh pull him aside and explain _everything_. It had taken weeks to convince Mr. Caelum and Mr. Amicitia that this was a beneficial plan. Neither of them were keen to send _another_ of their children into the hellscape; but, Ignis persisted. He underwent training with Cor and Weskham, both, to make this as plausible as they could. Most of it was honing an already critical eye for detail and perfecting the art of manipulating the truth. He hasn't lied, not once, since he came to Niflheim. Just… carefully omitted various facts. That he was able to secure his uncle's help… that was the truly nerve-wracking part of anything that's happened. He goes ten years without a single word to or from his uncle, suddenly calls him up for help and… receives it. With barely any trouble.

Yes, he's fully aware the man's bugged his office and _tried_ to bug his apartment—and he _loathes_ to call that thing an apartment—but… that seems a rather paltry consequence for what he's gained. He knows his friends are alive; he can ensure they _stay_ alive... and, on rare occasions… he can steal a few quiet moments away from the clinic. It's absolutely infuriating and taxing, to no end, having to keep Gladio at a carefully maintained distance. Worse, almost, is keeping _Noctis_ at a distance. He wants to assure him that Prompto is still… safe, if nothing else. Upset, the last Ignis saw him; missing his best friend, but _safe_. Which was more than he could say for any of the three of them. Of any of their other friends that ended up in the ring. He's seen so many familiar faces in the few months he's been here…

Pelna and Libertus had gone missing a year or so prior to Noctis and Gladio. He can't even remember how long its been since the Nox Fleuret siblings went missing. Nyx. Crowe. All in the same place. All fighting for their lives—for their freedom—just as much as their loved ones.

The worst of it all, perhaps, was that they were fairly evenly distributed as far as weight classes went. Ravus, Gladio, and Libertus all ended in up matches together on occasions; Noctis, Pelna, and… the outside friend that Ignis is still uncertain of. He doesn't know how Loqi got involved or, really, _who_ he is. But he'd been there when the blonde had been matched against Ravus… and come right back. He had his freedom and came right back. Noctis told him—much later, in the privacy of Ignis' apartment, while Ignis was trying to assess how badly his ribs were bruised, how deep some of the gashes and scratches from enraged sabretusks went—that it wasn't the first time. The most they 'knew', was that Loqi really didn't have anywhere to go. So, when he _did_ win his freedom… he always ended up right back where he'd been, unwilling to leave Ravus and Luna behind.

For now, his attention turns back to Gladio, intent on asking what he needed—he doesn't _look_ injured… but, that really doesn't mean much here. Before he can, the rather archaic phone on his desk rings and he feels his eye twitch. Even in Insomnia he's never heard the obnoxious secretary ring before; honestly, up until he moved to Niflheim a few months ago, he hadn't even been aware it was _real_. The only reason he tolerates the shrill ringing is the rather adamant desire to ensure _no one_ in this veiled hellhole has his personal cell number. It's horrifying enough that his uncle _might_ … he can only hope the man doesn’t; and, if he does, hope he doesn't give the number out.

Pulling a slow breath, Ignis crosses to his desk and finally picks up the phone before he has a chance to consider chucking the shrill-blaring, rusted piece of scrap at the wall. "Scientia speaking."

" _Ignis. Wonderful, you're in._ "

It takes a considerable effort not to lock up and he shoots Gladio a look to stay put and keep quiet when the man tries to step towards him. Thankfully, the look is _quite_ effective and he freezes on the spot, watching Ignis closely for any indication of what's happening.

" _You've no patients at the moment, correct?_ "

"Amicitia just walked in. Just after your medics dropped a pair of cadavers on my beds." He isn't quite able to keep the bite from his tone as he turns on the body bags again and lets out a slow, steadying breath. "I've asked you to remind them I'm no coroner. Just because I _can_ perform autopsies does not mean I _should_. This is a treatment facility. Not a morgue."

" _Your_ 'clinic' _is whatever Mr. Izunia decides it is, boy. You'll mind your tongue on the matter._ " His uncle's tone is cold; but, a moment later it levels out once more. " _That said, you are to assess the organs of the deceased. See if anything is salvageable._ "

"Salv—" Ignis cuts off immediately and _feels_ the colour draining from his face. He grips the table to keep himself steady when he glances over his shoulder again. "May I ask what—"

" _You may not._ "

"... Understood, sir. I will make no guarantees, but… I will do what I can as soon as I see to Amicitia."

" _He isn't there for treatment. We sent him along to assist you in disposing the bodies once you're finished._ " Ignis feels his brows furrow in confusion. His uncle sounds… bored. Like he really isn't all that interested in the results nor does he care that—if this "autopsy" runs on too long—Gladio has a very real chance of missing his upcoming match. Not because of the autopsies, no; but, because Ignis would _like_ to assess him for any outstanding injuries _beforehand_ and _that_ could take a while. Which would be, quite appropriately, massively unfortunate. " _You've a few hours until his match. I'm sure you can manage accordingly, no_?"

"Of… course, sir. I'll… bring you the results as soon as I am able…."

Ignis slowly lowers the phone back to the receiver, as soon as he confirms that his uncle's hung up and stares at the desk for a long moment, breathing deep, in and out, for a few short moments before his attention shifts to Gladio. They can't possibly know… but, they've been going out of their way—often—to put Ignis and Gladio in… situations. He's probably just being paranoid; but, things like this… where he can't actually explain what's going on? These situations are becoming horrendously normal. He finally turns, brows still furrowed and lips set in a thin line. "It seems you were sent to assist me."

Gladio stares for a long moment, a cursory glance drifting around the clinic before he tilts his head in confusion. "With? I thought they were just sending me on a supply run for the ring, what am I—"

"We haven't time to idle about with such questions. If you would, I've a number of coolers in the back storage closet. I need them ready and filled with ice. Also, do what you can to wash your hands." Ignis sighs, reluctantly tugging at the fingers of his gloves to pull them off. "I know we can't do _much_ , but whatever sanitation methods that _can_ be accomplished, should be. Especially in light of the number of healing wounds on your hands." Specifically, the splits in his knuckles that are healing slower with the cold weather drying his skin out.

As he's washing his hands, Gladio comes right up next to him, using the running water and proximity to their advantage to mumble a barely audible question. "What's goin' on, Specs?"

Clever. Risky, but clever. Ignis tilts his head in a minor gesture towards the body bags. "They requested I harvest the organs, if possible. And then you're to help me dispose the bodies. Not terribly difficult, just… time consuming, when I've other things I'd prefer to be doing. No matter, though… I suspect the guise will be the same as ever. Now, please mind yourself."

They both go quiet when Gladio turns the tap off, allowing Ignis the minor comfort of not having to touch the rusted water knobs more than necessary. As they're drying their hands, Ignis' attention drifts back to the bags. Time though they may have, he really would like to assess Gladio's physical condition before his fight and he's under no illusion that there will be many organs actually worth salvaging.

With Gladio's return with the pair of coolers, Ignis idly directs him to a few instruments and trolleys he keeps against a far wall. They work mostly in silence; the only breaks come from Ignis asking for various things as he navigates the insides of the corpses. The surprising part, perhaps, is that Gladio doesn't react to the open bodies past the initial flinch as they're cut open.

An hour and a half later, Ignis lets out a slow breath as he carefully packs a third kidney into one of the coolers. His arms feel disgusting, his hands feel worse, and the stench is nearly enough to make him retch. Gladio looks equally uncomfortable, but keeps it to himself, thankfully. Still, when he nods to one of the rickety windows, quietly asking to open them, Ignis gives a quick nod. He's under no illusion it will _help_ any… but, if it will air the room out any quicker, he'll take what he can. Gladio's hands, at least, are mostly clean still. The latex gloves are bloody but easily disposed of before he props the two windows open. They creak and protest the motions, but still remain opened once he manages to push them up. Immediately, the smell is nearly tripled as the generalised scent of Niflheim beings to permeate the office and _now_ his clinic is even colder than it was before. Ignis actually feels a repulsive shudder wrack his body, along with a brief shiver from the cold, and his lip curls in disgust.

"If you'll excuse me, then… I need to clean up. I'll be in the back if you've questions."

The freezer, admittedly, is meant to store medicinal supplies. Unnecessary, honestly, in the natural cold of Niflheim; but, given that Ignis prefers not to freeze and keeps a heater up front… it has its uses. Doubly so in the fascination his uncle and those associates have with harvested organs. It's also about the only room he has sterilised water in and _that_ thankfully makes cleaning his hands and arms much more efficient, if not a bit maddening. Cold water is… useful, yes. Still absolutely horrendous, but useful. As he's drying his hands, the door closing immediately draws his attention; before he can really react, however, proximity and warmth startle his senses and a gentle hand closes over his mouth to keep him from verbalising the surprise.

"Easy, Specs… just me." Gladio lets out a soft breath of relief, pressing his forehead to the back of Ignis' head and letting his hand drop so he can wind both arms tight around his torso. "Said they couldn't bug this room, so…"

The _main_ use of the freezer. It isn't ideal, no; but, sometimes it proves easier to treat wounds in the vault. The cold makes Noctis, at the very least, mostly numb to the sting of antiseptic, since most of his attention tends to be on trying to stop his teeth from chattering. Gladio isn't _as_ affected; but, he is right. Ignis has found bugs in here, yes; but, all frozen over and unresponsive. A safe room, specifically for things like this.

He lets out a slow breath and turns in the hold, winding his arms up around Gladio's neck to pull him closer and try to find a sense of control.

"My apologies… for them having you assist me." He still feels a bit sick to his stomach. No, he didn't particularly care for the fighters in question, but that didn't make the needless injuries and death any easier to handle. He became a doctor to _help_ people. Strangers, just as much as people he cared about and… honestly, the number of bodies he's seen in the past few months? Upsetting doesn't even begin to cover it anymore. His only consolation is that none of the deceased have been anyone he knows. He _had_ been grateful they were unaware of his involvement in disposing the bodies, but… well, Gladio knows now. He doesn't doubt he'll keep it from the others, but—

The thoughts cut off when he feels warmth against his forehead. A gentle kiss, a familiar gesture, an attempt at reassurance.

"Don't. You know I'll help with whatever. If it means movin' a few bodies? I'll do it." Gladio pulls back from the hug, just enough that he can bring a hand up to Ignis' face, brows furrowing in concern as he rubs his thumb over Ignis' cheek. "How long has this been goin' on, Specs? Usually they just burn the bodies to keep 'em from pilin' up, unless someone requests them. First I've heard of them bein' brought in."

Ignis blinks at him. He's been handling cadavers since he got here, how—

His thoughts pause as he considers it. He'd asked Luna how things were usually handled when he first set up shop. Just to get an idea of how Niflheim ran and how he would need to acclimate so as not to raise more suspicion. As he thinks back on it, his friend never once mentioned ever having to handle dead bodies. Injuries, yes. Amputation was one of the worst she could recall, perhaps because the subject had been her brother. So if Luna's never had to salvage organs…

His brows furrow in a tight knit as he finally answers. "They brought the first body a few days after I set up here. I hadn't thought anything of it, at the time… but, now that I consider it… Luna's never made mention of handling any corpses. An organ market couldn't have just started overnight, so… what _were_ they doing before?"

Gladio just blinks at him, clearly surprised by the answer before he frowns. "Why didn't you say anything? You could've asked me or Noct or, Hell, just told me. You've been dealing with this since you got here?"

"As I said, I thought nothing of it." Ignis raises a brow. He feels a bit silly, having not considered talking to Gladio about it before, but… honestly, the few moments they got alone, talking about _anything_ related to the ring or the clinic was the last thing on his mind. "There are worse things to focus on, as well. Namely, finding a way to get you two _home_ , along with the rest of our friends."

Friends might be stretching it, a bit. Ravus tolerates them, a bit more than he did years ago, likely in light of the fact that they're all in the same boat and having allies is… not useful, but also something of a comfort in the environment they're in. Loqi he's still uncertain of; but, the blonde's taken to hanging around the clinic in his free time. Mostly to assist with any injuries Ravus sustains. For his temper and own injuries, Ignis has found Loqi's help rather invaluable, especially in maintaining the artificial arm Ravus has. 

He won't even pretend to understand how the limb works; but, Loqi understands it and, so far as Ignis can tell, the two frequent his clinic to keep from worrying Luna too often. Nyx and his group are old acquaintances and… honestly, given the sudden increased involvement in their lives, Ignis has been finding himself more attached to them. Enough to worry when they come in sporting anything worse than a few bruises.

Pelna and Nyx fall into Noctis' group, along with Loqi; the four of them always have an alarming number of injuries—mostly grazing. Smaller fighters tend to be faster and get more hits in that are a bit lighter. Not necessarily less dangerous but… they dodge more. Libertus, Ravus, and Gladio however… more hits, heavier hits, higher endurance, and nearly damning stamina. Prime for larger beast fights—Ignis is still curious about the rumours he's head of a group fight against a Behemoth but… he really doesn't want that confirmed—and other specialised matches he's heard whispers of.

Ignis releases a slow breath, leaning forward to press his forehead against Gladio's shoulder. "Things to worry about later… for now, I'd rather check you over. I was unaware you had a match today."

"Yeah, so was I until I woke up." Gladio grumbles. Even with the words, neither of them make a move to separate. "Heard the Queen had somethin' to do with it, though. Not sure what her interest in it is, but I'll probably be makin' a house call later." His expression softens and he smooths a hand through Ignis' hair with a heavy exhale. "Need to be on the same page to help, Igs. _Let me_. I've been here three damn years… y'ain't troublin' me none. I want to help… not just so me and Noct go home, but so _you_ go home."

His hand trails down from Ignis' hair, fingers gently tracing down his jaw until he can tap his chin upwards and steal a gentle kiss. Cold, like the vault they're in; but enough to send a warm sensation through Ignis. Enough that he almost misses the words that follow. "None of us belong here… but you sure as hell don't. And when we get home for good? All of us, I mean—you, me, Noct, Nyx and his crew, Ravus, Lu, and the weird kid that follows them around; _everyone_. Soon as we're home? You an' me? Straight to the altar. We pick up right where we left off. Okay?"

At that, Ignis can only offer a weak smile in response, even when he nods. Something in his chest tries to let him hope… but, overall, he just feels something heavy and cold sinking in his core. He wants to hope, but…

"Specs." Gladio's voice makes him look up and he realises that the misery is likely plain as day. At least to Gladio it is. "I know it's rough the first few months—fuck, it's _always_ rough. I'm not gonna lie, shit doesn't get easier. But you're not alone, okay? We've got you. _I've_ got you. You think for one second I'm gonna let these fucks do _anything_ to you?"

"I know. Believe me, I know." Ignis lets his gaze fall off to the side, attention falling on the coolers sitting harmless on a table. Unsuspecting. If he weren't already aware of the contents, he would never guess _what_ was in them. "I just… Gladio, I don't know if I can keep this up. Staying and doing what I can for you? For any of our friends? _That_ I can do. The Hell if anyone finds out—Drautos, Izunia, the Hell with the lot of them—but... we've made absolutely no progress. The legality of the ring… even the organ harvests? I have _dozens_ of medical records, of transcripts, of death certificates from these past few months. That doesn't account for anything _before_ I arrived. And to what end? I bring in a report of some of the injuries any of you sustain and it's a street fight. A simple spat that turned into a brawl. Organs? The original owners are _mysteriously_ all donors and I am merely fulfilling their wills. I've very little doubts the police are aware of the rings… but there are no laws to organised brawls. Least of all brawls that cannot be attested with physical evidence. Photos. Recordings. Things that cannot be disputed in courts. Even sworn words hold no sway in the courts here. I _went_ to a trial. Just for my own curiosity. Do you've _any_ idea what their court systems are like here? The punishment for a crime so minor as _theft_ landed a man in the ring, instead of a few weeks in prison. He stole food. Not even _successfully_. I know this isn't Insomnia, but…"

Hopeless feels… not nearly enough to describe what he feels. He's no stranger to stress. Even in Insomnia, stress was par for his work. He knows, full and well, there are some patients he just can't save. Failure hurts, but he _knows_ it is an inevitability. Here, though? Failure means potentially losing someone he cares about. Gladio. Noctis. Any of them, but _those two_ … he can't lose them. Not again, not after finally _having them_ back after three years. And at this point? He's not even sure they _can_ get home.

He's done research. He's looked into the rules of the ring—unofficial though they may be, they seem to be… something of guidelines. He's asked his uncle, as well, passing off the interest as beneficial to his job. Which, it is. To his understanding, limited though it may be, a hundred wins nullifies any outstanding contract. The winning fighter is free to leave and never look back; but, certain _circumstances_ always say "prized" fighters returning. It hadn't taken much for Ignis to figure out, even without the information he'd gotten _before_ coming to NIflheim. 

A hundred matches would take months to achieve. And _months_ was exactly the amount of time that Mr. Caelum and Mr. Amicitia had gone missing for, for _years_ , up until their sons suddenly went missing three years ago. They never came home together and _always_ came back with new scars and bruises. Weskham came home when neither of them were home. Only a few days at a time before vanishing again, leaving Cor and Cid to monitor all of the children.

Contract matches were always, inevitably, between two different weight classes. Whoever had tallied up ninety-nine wins in each class would square off, winner takes all and loser… well, if they weren't _dead_ … loser started over. Fought their way back to the top. By that logic, whenever Mr. Caelum and Mr. Amicitia were _both_ gone, they were competing for wins. Ignis can't imagine they were in the same weight class and he knows for a fact that Noctis and Gladio are nowhere _near_ falling in together. Even if Noctis _has_ put on substantial muscle weight, he's nowhere near Gladio or Libertus or Ravus.

Ignis doesn't doubt for a single moment that _sooner or later_ that ninety-ninth victory is going to land them against one another. There's a small difference between them right now—Noctis sitting on eighty wins and Gladio sitting on seventy-four from a _minor_ setback against someone Ignis hadn't recognised. He's still upset about that, if only because the other fighter had _died_. But it still counted _against_ Gladio, because of a knockout. … Though, really, he probably shouldn't complain _too_ much, since… his understanding is the man very well and likely would have turned knockout into murder if he hadn't collapsed first. A small victory but…

Ignis shakes his head, sharply, and lets out a slow breath. "I'm… my apologies I shouldn't… I…"

"You need a break." Gladio murmurs, gently cupping his face once more. "Take one. After today's matches, me and Noct both have a week. Just take a few days, Iggy. Without Lucians fighting, there are Nifilian doctors to handle other fighters. Let them do the dirty work for a bit. You and me. Just relaxin' for a few days, okay? And we can sort as much of this mess out as possible." Another gentle kiss before he finally, reluctantly pulls away. "I've got a match after Noct's. I'll take him to Luna so you can finish sorting this mess out, yeah?" He looks back towards the main office. "Don't think either of us want him to know where the dead bodies end up…"

Ignis gives a slow nod. It really is bad enough Gladio knows and, now that he's been reminded, he really doesn't want to go back into the office. He hopes it's aired out at least a _little_ , but… he also knows that's rather foolish. "I'll manage. If the bodies merely need to be taken to the appointed site, I can handle it." His tone drops into a deadpan. "I'll likely close up afterwards, though. Izunia's well aware I take house calls and I've… a very dreaded feeling I'm going to need a scalding shower after this."

That gets a short laugh and a wry smile. "I can move the bodies if you want, Igs. That's why they sent me, isn't it?"

"True… give me a moment, I need to confirm something with Drautos." He can't keep the bite from his tone and merely sighs when Gladio gives his shoulder a firm squeeze, trying to calm him down. "Sometimes they ask for skin donations, along with organs. I should probably confirm if they do before we dispose of the bodies. Don't bother asking, I've no idea what they could possibly want from skin as battered as some of the fighters that come through here." His tone is dry and he shakes his head when Gladio throws him a startled look. It's never a full canvas of skin—usually just patches of samples. He really isn't sure _what_ they're looking for, but… if there _is_ any healthy skin that can be donated, he should at least _try_. The more content those at the top are, the less stressful Ignis' job is.

He makes a vague gesture for Gladio to follow him—a suggestion, mostly; honestly, Ignis would prefer the cold to the smell of open carcasses that assaults his senses the very second he enters the front room. But, Gladio still follows, even when makes a face at the smell as well. He stays quiet and just leans on a counter, arms crossed over his stomach, focus on Ignis as he picks up the phone, and waits for the verdict.

The phone rings twice before it's finally answered and Ignis actually finds himself fighting to maintain a straight expression and level tone when his uncle's voice comes through. " _Is there a problem?_ "

"Nothing of the sort, sir. I've three kidneys, a liver, two hearts, and a pancreas to deliver. I merely—"

" _A rather small list, boy. What of the rest?_ "

Ignis blinks, confusion settling heavy and fast in the form of a thin frown. "I'm… I beg your pardon? Sir, with all due respect, these fights _destroy_ bodies. Insides suffer the same as the skin bruises, it is not feasible in any manner that _all_ organs are salvageable—"

" _Functionality is irrelevant. The organs are for donation and study. We've scientists on hand that will determine which ones they keep and which are donated._ All _of the organs get harvested. Understood?_ "

What in the actual Hell can they learn from damaged organs? Still, he lets out a steadying breath and nods when he answers. "Affirmative. I… meant to call to inquire skin samples, as well—"

" _Yes. If you would, just a small patch wherever there are fewer scars or bruises. Anything else?_ "

"No, sir."

" _Good. We're sending a collector. I expect you can finish this in a timely manner?_ "

Ignis glances at the clock. Assuming they're coming from the ring, that gives him probably fifteen minutes. Maybe more, probably less. But, the bodies are already open and the organs are already set aside. The heater had been off for the operation and the cold from outside is seeping in from the open windows. Even so… they were already damaged, he can't imagine they've suffered much worse out in the open. Merely a matter of packing them into coolers.

"Affirmative."

There is no departing word; just a click. Ignis slowly sets the phone back down and turns back to the bodies. His eyes flicker towards Gladio and he nods to the back, expression set in a thin mask of professionalism. "It seems we require more coolers… if you would, please."

Even if they're supposed to hate each other, Ignis sees no reason to forego manners. Gladio raises a brow at him but still nods and heads back into the storage of the clinic for the requested items. Ignis turns his attention back to the beds. Blood stained sheets, probably straight through to the mattresses… he's likely going to have to replace them again. He really should just invest in metal beds to avoid this mess, honestly. A thought for later, however.

He shakes his head and pulls on a pair of fresh gloves, moving to gather the previously discarded organs, still sitting in various metal bins to try containing the mess. He looks over the bodies, as best he can, trying to find some parts of skin that aren't too terribly bruised. Petra's sample ends up coming from a patch on his chest; Tredd's from a patch on his arm. He sets the samples aside just as Gladio returns, two coolers in each hand and he raises an alarmed brow when he spots Ignis handling the organs.

"Thought those weren't worth salvagin', doc?"

"That, quite fortuitous to us both, is none of your concern." Despite the words and cold tone, Ignis gives him a pointed look. One to tell him not to ask questions as much as promise to explain what little he understands later. Gladio shrugs one shoulder in response and sets the coolers close to the beds, standing back to let Ignis organise the various organs in his own way. There really isn't much that can be done for any of them, but he still tries to make sure none of them are too close together. He's just closing the lids when he hears a rap against his door and raises his head.

Considerably less than fifteen minutes. He raises his voice a bit to allow the person in, at the same moment he's removing the latex gloves. "It's open."

He fights down a shudder when the door opens and scowls a little. The little bit of cold settling in the room from the windows is nothing compared to the rush from the door opening. The scowl, however, evens out to surprise when he sees exactly _who_ walks in. At first, his attention is drawn to the large, white fur coat with sequins threaded in, and the tight black mini-dress that _should_ have been absolute Hell to wear in the weather around them. The owner, however, looks none too bothered by the cold; Shiva, Izunia's primary arm candy, levels him with a carefully neutral expression, her gaze drifting towards Gladio for a short moment, before she finally graces them with a smile. Calm. Calculated. Clearly crafted by the NIfilian environment when she tips her head in greeting. "Doctor. Champion. Always lovely to see you both… you've the samples requested, I presume?"

"We… do, ma'am, I… was not expecting you." Ignis shakes his head, hard, a few times to try shaking the surprise off. "My apologies, you merely took me by surprise. It is not often you grace us with your presence. Has something come up?"

"Nothing of the sort, my dear." Shiva taps two fingers to his cheek as she walks by. A light touch, brief, and barely enough to elicit the usual flinch from sudden contact. "There were… complications with our last handler. Complications that have been dealt with." She turns her attention to Gladio. "So we hope, at any rate. I trust you to handle that matter for us, Gladiolus?"

Gladio frowns and exchanges a quick look with Ignis before he turns the look on Shiva. "All due respect ma'am, I was understandin' my fight was with Nox Fleuret today?"

"Oh, it is. I'm afraid it won't be a very fulfilling fight, however." Her eyes close, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "He's bound to be a touch distracted… and you know how our darling sponsor is. We do so hate to leave the crowd feeling as though they aren't getting their money's worth, don't we?" She levels him with a look that could almost be sympathy. But, if Ignis has learned anything these past few months—and he reckons Gladio knows, as well—it's that sympathy was not something to expect. Ever.

"I did _try_ to convince them to reschedule or merely let one of the other fighters handle it," she continues, making a vague gesture as though that will convince them any more that she's on their side. "However, my advice was ignored. You will be entertaining two fights today, Gladiolus. I suggest you prepare yourself. It is high likely that your second fight will have weapons."

"They can't—" Ignis catches himself before he gets too far and lets out a frustrated sigh. "I _suspect_ that means they are sending a third body after this fight? I intended to close up after I finished _this_ ," he gestures towards the bodies. "Should I be reassessing the rest of my day?" He has no doubt the body _won't_ be Gladio's… but, if he's expected to fight Ravus… and then go straight into a second fight, one with _weapons_ permitted to the challenger? And that was even assuming Ravus _lost_ ; Shiva seems rather certain he'll be in no condition to win a fight, but... if Ignis had to hazard a guess? Loqi's fighting today. And when Loqi fights, Ravus' focus tends to be rather… elsewhere, to say the least.

"No. I suspect our Dr. Besithia has _very_ specific plans for this man." Shiva's voice draws Ignis from his own thoughts; her eyes open once more, expression remarkably passive, despite her implications. "Please. Do relax yourself for the rest of the day doctor. I can only imagine how alarming this must have been, having two cadavers brought in right as you open shop. That said," she produces a card from somewhere inside the large fur coat, "we'll be working rather closely together. My card, if you would. I would like you to call my at your earliest convenience tomorrow, so we can discuss exactly what you will be doing from here on out."

Her attention goes to Gladio next and she makes a short beckoning gesture. "If you would be so kind, I've a car waiting. Would you load the coolers into the cars for me? And, doctor, if you would be so inclined as to close the body bags, we can have those transported, as well. I've time to spare."

For a moment, Ignis can only blink at her. He startles out of his thoughts when he hears the coolers scrape against the floor as Gladio lifts them and finally offers a short, slow nod. "If… I do not wish to impose, but if you are certain, ma'am…"

"Quite." She regards him with a gentle look. One that makes him squirm and ends in her breathing a soft sigh and offering a quiet laugh. "My apologies, you… remind me of someone I once knew. Charming lad… no matter, though. I can tell my presence is unsettling. I will be taking my leave, then. If you find yourself busy tomorrow, you needn't call; whenever you find yourself free, all I ask is for a few minutes of your time. I will bid you a fond farewell, then. Please, enjoy the rest of your day, doctor."

With a tip of her head, she exits just before Gladio comes back to gather another pair of coolers. He raises a brow in silent question at Ignis; but, neither of them say anything as they carry out the requests. The truly odd part of Shiva being involved is… her orders never really sound like orders. She always words them as requests and, so far as Ignis has seen, when someone declines, she doesn't react nearly as horrible as some of the others he's dealt with. He's only had to decline her once and she had accepted with a gentle understanding that left Ignis confused beyond all belief.

As they watch the car pull away—coolers and body bags secure in the back seat and trunk—Ignis and Gladio exchange looks before heading back into the vault. As soon as the door closes, Gladio lets out a frustrated noise and musses a hand through his hair. "Six, that woman is unsettlin'. What's she want with you, Igs?"

"I am… uncertain." He frowns feeling his pockets for the card he received. "I agree, though… I'm never sure how to handle her—least of all… now…?"

He frowns when he finally finds the card and turns it a few times. He apparently grabbed it backwards; because what he's looking at definitely isn't a contact number. The number is facing Gladio and Ignis? Ignis is looking at elegant cursive that… looks rather familiar honestly. He turns the card to show Gladio.

 _Meet me at the police station, following young Caelum's match_.

Gladio raises a brow. "Sounds like a trap."

"Quite… how soon after Noctis' match is yours?"

"Forty-five minutes. Plenty of time to see you there and make it back to the ring." His voice comes out in a protective rumble. Ignis merely nods and looks at the card once more, turning it a few times for any other oddities. Her contact information is typed, clearly printed from a bulk batch as any business card would be. Whatever message she may or may not have for him… following the message seems to be the most logical step to take.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Official Start To Finish Collaboration with [heyjealousy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjealousy) ♥! She'll be handling Promptis focus, while I'm here to deliver Gladnis feels!
> 
> Be sure to check out [Giants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492/chapters/29155044) when you've a free moment! | [Chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492/chapters/29332062) is Up!

As Ignis is locking up the clinic, Gladio's standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets to try warding off the cold around them. He doesn't so much mind it himself—not really; he's had three years to get used to it and it's not… _as_ bad as it was when he first arrived—but, even from where he's standing, he can tell that Ignis hasn't adapted quite so well. The second he finished locking up, as he's stepping away from the door to investigate the windows, a massive shiver wracks his body, making him tug his jacket and scarf closer before he lets out a slow breath—one that comes out in a trail of smoke—and glances towards Gladio, tilting his head in an indicative manner as he begins towards the police station. Gladio falls into step a few seconds later, carefully keeping a few steps behind him.

He hates it. More than anything else in this situation, Gladio absolutely hates the distance they have to maintain. Well… _have to_ might be a bit strong. They could come up with a million reasons to suddenly be on speaking terms again but… it made it hard to keep the facade up. As they're walking, his thoughts start to wander; he doesn't really pay much mind to where they're going, only because they've walked this path dozens of times over the past few months.

When Ignis first arrived in Niflheim, Izunia and Drautos had made a point to introduce him and all the other non-Nifilian fighters. Alarming was one word for the situation. He and Noctis had reacted a bit more… verbally than they should have. A bit more familiarly… and, looking back, he only just realises that Ravus _hadn't_ reacted past a thin frown. Probably heard it from Luna, now that he's thinking about it; but, regardless… he and Noctis had been shocked and, very rightly, terrified of the sudden situation their friend was in. Gladio, a bit more. Three years worrying about Ignis—was he holding up, was he upset, had their fathers told him anything, had he moved on (and, _gods_ had Gladio been terrified of that probability), was he still waiting—and suddenly… there he was. The last place on Eos he should've been. Not only that, but, the second they made eye contact he'd been… remarkably indifferent.

Noctis had been confused. Gladio remembers that much, he can't remember the _exact_ conversation that transpired, but he remembers the younger man trying to get too many answers in front of the wrong people. Not specifically why Ignis was _there_ … but why he wasn't reacting to seeing Gladio. Nyx looked like he had questions about it, too; but, he'd kept quiet and tried to rein Noctis in to absolutely no avail. The question had already been asked and Izunia and Drautos were _far_ too interested in the answer. 

Gladio still wonders if anyone else noticed the tension in Ignis' posture or the way he had to force himself to answer. Maybe it was just something they were attuned to, because Gladio wasn't the least bit surprised. Ok, maybe a little when Drautos asked if _he_ was the heartbreak Ignis was trying to get away from. But, when Ignis had given a rather stiff, curt affirmative, he hadn't been surprised. Momentarily worried, absolutely; but, surprised? Not in the least. If that was the story Ignis gave… there was a reason for it and he was likely going to stick to it. In a manner befitting him, Ignis had met the tension head on and, when Drautos offered to just keep Gladio seeing Luna and the Nifilian medics, had supplied a simple response that he wasn't going to discriminate patients. 

Of course, that particular declaration meant that Izunia made _damn sure_ to send _everyone_ his way. Enough so that Noctis and Gladio hadn't seen him for at least two weeks after his arrival. They'd still been sent to Luna, since no other doctor would see them for their injuries, until Luna was finally overrun and there wasn't a choice _but_ for them to see Ignis. That meeting hadn't gone any better, not with Noctis still asking questions, despite Ignis giving him exasperated looks. Gladio eventually managed to get him to shut up by clamping a hand over his mouth long enough for Ignis to hand them a simple business card. The clinic's address on the front and, on the back, a second address. One they later, quickly, learned was his apartment.

Thankfully, at that point, Ignis had already run into Aranea and Cindy and had his apartment swept and cleaned for bugs. The first few minutes had been absolutely nerve-wracking, wondering if maybe Ignis _was_ actually mad at him and Gladio had lost his ability to read the silent communication; worries that were quickly put to rest when he hugged both of them. Maybe a bit longer than he needed to; but, those few weeks had clearly been enough to warrant the contact. Even when he finally released both of them and began explaining everything, he kept right next to Gladio, gripping his hand and pressed close to his side. It felt good.

There was no other way to describe the proximity; the sense of familiarity and warmth that had been missing for three years was suddenly back and it was everything to _not_ just gather Ignis in his arms and kiss him. Not in front of Noctis at any rate. The second Noctis left, however, was a very different story. Physical reassurance aside, Gladio was given more details than Noctis—the full version of what all had happened since they left. That Regis and Clarus had tried their hardest to keep Ignis and Prompto from finding out. Last Ignis knew, Prompto was still unaware of the situation; that still held true in the present, so far as either of them are aware. Ignis found out from Weskham, after six or so months; and, after another two months of wearing Regis and Clarus down, had closed his clinic in Insomnia to focus on what all he would need to know to survive in Niflheim.

Two and a half years, revisiting old self-defence classes they took growing up. And Gladio is _ridiculously_ grateful Cor—or whoever, but he's going to assume Cor—brought this up. Ignis may not have a typical Lucian air about him or accent to give him away… but the second some of the Nifilian fighters found out, he started getting heat. Nothing _serious_ yet, so far as Gladio's aware; but… if he ever verifies _who_ let that slip? He's probably going to rip their spine out. He has a pretty good idea of who it was; just no proof and no way to really find out. … Maybe he should try to get Loqi to find out. As weird as the kid is, he's stupidly good at finding things out he shouldn't know.

Two and a half years of learning everything he could about Niflheim. At least… what people who had been here could tell him. What Regis and Clarus could tell him about the ring and matches and politics surrounding the fights. What Weskham could tell him, to prepare him for the injuries he'd be seeing. What Cor could tell him about surviving something as simple as walking down the street. That lesson, more than anything, was their only saving grace; _no_ non-Nifilian—citizen or otherwise—walked down the streets alone if they could help it. Gladio does, more than he probably should, and he's pretty sure Ravus disregards that unspoken rule, as well. But, it gave him a reason to be close by whenever Ignis had to go anywhere, so… he'd take it.

Two and a half years spent building up an emotional barricade to survive lying. Well, not lying. So far as Gladio can tell, Ignis hasn't told a single lie since he arrived. He omits various facts when he's questioned by Drautos or Izunia or… anyone that asks him questions, really. Even Noctis gets half-truths sometimes. Gladio, too, apparently…

He frowns a little as he thinks about it and glances at Ignis, still at the carefully maintained distance, still huddled in on himself to try warding off the cold, and lets out a slow exhale through his nostrils before he turns his attention up to the sky. He hates Niflheim. Even when the sun's out it looks gloomy as Hell. He shakes the thoughts off, turning his attention back to Ignis. They really need to talk about the dead bodies thing…

His thoughts are interrupted rather abruptly when Ignis stops walking and Gladio nearly walks right into his back. He manages not to and just frowns, looking around for a brief moment. There aren't many people on the street… a few turn-tails on the corner across the street at the next intersection, but no one really close to them. Safe to talk.

"Igs—?"

"Shh." Ignis frowns, looking around, clearly perplexed and trying to locate… oh.

Gladio blinks as the muffled voices reach him and starts looking, too. Street fights are nothing unusual. Still, with so many non-Nifilian fighters and the fact Noctis had a match today… worry seems like a pretty good reaction. Before he can suggest Ignis continue to the police station and he'll catch up, his boyfriend starts towards an alley and Gladio barely bites down the annoyed groan. _This_ they've definitely talked about; but, they can discuss Ignis' less than healthy habit of following trouble later. Right now they need to make sure it's _not_ Noctis or any of their other friends getting jumped again. Last time they'd stumbled on a street fight it was Crowe on her way to work; and, given how close they are to the station? That's a pretty high probability,actually. Not that Crowe can't defend herself, but when assaults came with numbers—

They both end up freezing, as they round a corner to head further into the back alleys, and Gladio feels his heart stop for a brief second. Definitely not Crowe. There's two guys pining a third to a wall—a smaller figure, dressed way too nicely to be local. One has his arm pressed to the victim's chest, right against the collarbone to keep him from struggling too much; the other has a rather rusted switchblade. Ignoring that this situation would be shit for anyone and they would still intervene, the dread vanishes in a rush of anger as Gladio registers _exactly_ who's been cornered.

With a deep, rumbling growl he comes up behind the man pinning Prompto and grabs the offending arm, probably a bit tighter than he needs to and prying it away, bending the limb back until he hears the man begin to swear in protest.

"Mind your own fucking business—"

"How about _you_ mind your business and _get the fuck outta here_." 

It really doesn't take much for Gladio's protective drive to kick in. Not when his friends are involved, but _especially_ when the softer ones are. Prompto definitely falls into that category. In his periphery he spots Ignis pulling Prompto away, quietly fussing over him—turning his face to check for injuries and adjusting his coat to check his neck and what he can see of his shoulders and collarbone for bruising. He doesn't _look_ injured. A lot shaken up and shell-shocked, but… alright. 

That settled, Gladio turns his attention back to the man he still has a grip on and the one with the knife. They both still look angry; but, at the very least, they also look like they're reconsidering the situation and that they should probably leave.

Of the non-Nifilian fighters, Gladio's probably—as much as he absolutely loathes to admit it—the most popular. Most of the heavyweight fighters are—him, Ravus, Lib, a few others—but, only because their fights are more likely to end in death than the lighter class. They could take the hits they dished out and were a bit harder to keep down. They ended up in matches with higher risks, a bit too often for Gladio's liking, honestly—beast fights, mech fights... not to say the light weights _didn't_ end up in those fights, but they were less likely. He knows for a fact that Loqi's usually restricted from mech fights because he knows how to disable them. He's small enough, quick enough, to get under them, get where he needs to, and suffer minimal injuries; Pelna's a little slower about it, but he can usually disable them without too much trouble. Noctis and Nyx can dodge and bring the mechs down with force, but… it usually ends in a few burns, a few grazing shots, and a _lot_ of bruises.

Fights aside, Gladio isn't entirely sure _what_ he did to become a crowd favourite… but, if he _had_ to guess… it's probably because of the death count and the fact he was involved in the incident with Ravus' arm. Unintentional, but apparently the spectators hated Ravus a lot more than him. Not something any of them really understand, but it was what it was. And Gladio uses that popularity—or fear, in this case—to his advantage when and where he can.

He more senses than sees Ignis finally join him, but doesn't look for confirmation. He's not sure where Prompto is; but, knowing Ignis, he's safe for the moment.

"I _suspect_ there was a reason for this, gentlemen." Ignis' voice sounds from just behind his shoulder, confirming his location and Gladio's instincts; a bit further back he hears Prompto coughing, but still doesn't look to check on him. "I can't possibly imagine how a tourist would be of interest to _you_ , least of all so close to the station."

"Niflheim law don't apply to Lucians, _doctor_." The man in Gladio's grip spits out. He grinds his teeth, clearly trying to bite down the pain when Gladio bends his arm further back with a raised brow. "Don't protect you two, either!"

"If you wish to take this up with the law enforcement, you can join us." Ignis points out, coldly, finally stepping around Gladio and putting a hand on his arm. "Let him go. There's no need for this to escalate, since he seems _quite_ certain we're in the wrong here… I see no problem bringing this to the station."

Gladio finally turns his attention to Ignis, frowning lightly. Just as quickly, though, he realises his boyfriend's being dead serious. Green eyes are narrowed dangerously on the offenders, lips set in a thin line and he gives Gladio a look out the corner of his eye. "Now, Gladiolus."

" _Fine_ , I guess." He almost forgot they were supposed to be playing up this hatred thing. He hears Prompto give a confused noise behind him and, after releasing the man from his grip, finally turns an attempt at a reassuring smile on the blonde. It feels thin and rather forced but… still more than nothing. "Y'okay?"

He can still see Ignis from the corner of his eye, is still alert to any potential risk, despite knowing that's… mostly unlikely.

Ignis crosses his arms, expression still carefully void and voice cold as the air around them. "Well? I was _just_ on my way to the police station. If I've two citizens escorting me, I can't possibly imagine any further issues… can you, gentlemen?"

If there's one thing that's always struck a chord in Gladio when Ignis is involved, it's the way he handles confrontations. Always calm, always collected, always calculating. Bounds and leaps ahead of the other party, ready with a reply, with a challenge, with a hundred different ways to end the conversation. And, as Gladio's attention is on Prompto, he finally realises… this is probably the first time the blonde's ever seen this happen.

Ignis makes a point to ensure Noctis and Prompto don't see him like this often, if ever; Noctis has seen it quite a bit lately and now… Prompto looks remarkably out of place. Not just because of his clothes and the pretty obvious air about him that practically screams ' _I'm not a citizen!_ '; he looks confused and terrified of the entire situation, his attention trying to split between Ignis and Gladio and the two men that had cornered him.

Gladio should probably be a bit more concerned than he is that he's turned his back on someone with a knife. He's got enough scars to vouch that civilians aren't above using whatever old as Hell weapons they have on hand; but, he's also one-hundred percent, absolutely certain Ignis can handle it. Sure enough, barely a split second after the thought crosses his mind, Prompto ends up making a short, strangled noise of surprise at the same moment he sees Ignis move from his periphery.

When he turns a rather bored look over his shoulder, it's hard to fight down the smirk threatening to overtake his expression. The man that had pinned Prompto is on the ground; the man with the knife is trying to wrench his arm away from Ignis, who has one hand just behind his elbow while the other is steadily tightening a grip on the man's wrist until the switchblade clatters harmlessly to the ground. It disappears under a nearby dumpster when he kicks it, glare shifting between the two.

"You still haven't told me what your interest in the young man is, gentlemen. My patience is wearing remarkably thin. I've an appointment to make and this delay is going to make a rather unsightly impression on my client. I'll ask once more: _what_ is your interest in the young man?"

With a glance between Prompto and the two men, Gladio finds his own eyes narrowing as he considers it. If Prompto was here… he was probably sent same as Ignis. The kid has his own sorts of smarts, but finding out where all three of his friends were? Not likely. He was sent and if he was heading _towards_ the police station…

"I can guess." Gladio's voice comes out as a threatening growl. "Noct's match just wrapped up not too long ago and if he came from the ring…"

Ignis glances back at Gladio, then further over his shoulder at Prompto, expression carefully blank before he turns on the man in his grasp once more. His grip continues to steadily tighten, voice dripping in new, more dangerous venom than the icy tone from before. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the outcome of the match… _would it_?"

The man on the ground scrambles away as his buddy's still trying to wrench away from Ignis. He's broken into a cold sweat, still trying to look angry at least. Gladio might give him points for that, but if this mess is just because Prompto _happened_ to be at the match and _probably_ cheered for Noctis…

"The _Hell_ do you even care? You two're gonna end up in a title match _anyways_!" Despite the blatant attempt to _seem_ confident, the man's voice is panicked as he realises he isn't getting away from Ignis. The words are initially thrown at Gladio, like he's convinced Gladio will step in; but, he only raises a brow. With that option dusted, the man's attention is back on Ignis. "Courts'll find _you_ guilty in no time, _then_ what—"

"Oh, they won't." Ignis waits a moment longer, a short moment until the man tugs again to release him and watches him tumble to the concrete, watches as he barely catches himself before his head bashes into the ground. "I have a _slightly_ better chance of surviving persecution in a court. You, however… have a _very_ high chance of ending up victim to a court ordained fight." Ignis' attention is solely on the man, his head tilting to one side as he observes the effect of his words in full. When Gladio finally tears his eyes away from his boyfriend to check on the offender, he's none too surprised to see the colour drained from his face.

"If you were to say even one word against the Lucian fighters… I'm certain the courts would be quite open to the idea of you handling the matter yourself. Caelum's match, was it? They would probably _love_ to set up more fights for him—"

The threat of a prediction is left hanging in the air as the man finally scrambles to his feet and makes a hasty retreat down the opposite end of the alley. Specifically, running _away_ from the police station. They stay silent a bit longer, just to ensure no one else is going to come to investigate; Gladio waits to relax, until he hears Ignis release a slow breath.

"Well. That could have gone... worse, I suppose. Although," Ignis turns his attention on Prompto finally, his arms crossing against his chest. He tries to at least sound cross; but, he's failing rather spectacularly at it. He ends up sounding worried more than anything when he asks, "What on _Eos_ are you doing here—"

He cuts off when Prompto throws an arm around both of them, nearly yanking Ignis off balance in the process. Gladio reaches out, putting an arm around his waist to steady him; and, a moment later, wraps the other under Prompto's shoulders to pull both of them in for a secure hug. The kid obviously needs it and… honestly, Gladio's never one to turn down an excuse to be close to Ignis.

"M'fine." Prompto's voice is quiet; enough so Gladio barely hears him. "Better now that I know that you guys're okay, too…"

When Prompto finally releases them, he looks hesitant as he steps back. Gladio just raises a brow, keeping his arm loose around Ignis' waist. "Don't look fine."

"He's in the middle of this godsforsaken Hellhole, of _course_ he isn't—"

"Wait." Prompto blinks at them, hesitation letting way to confusion. A small hint of relief but… mostly confusion. "You… you guys aren't mad at each other? B-but, you were just—?"

Gladio glances over at Ignis, noting he looks equally surprised by the question before the situation dawns on him. He finally offers a small, reassuring smile when he shakes his head and tries to put the blonde at ease. "No, Prompto. Gladio and I aren't mad at each other—well," a sidelong, exasperated glance is thrown his way and Gladio just grins. "Annoyed, perhaps. But, no. Everything's well as can be expected. I promise. But… if you've been sent here, as we suspect you have… that was the story given and one we've done our best to uphold."

The explanation gets a relieved sigh from Prompto and he quickly closes the short distance to hug Ignis again, arms tight around his neck and voice muffled against Ignis' shoulder, "M'Glad. Today's already been horrible, I… I don't think I could handle if you two were mad at each other…"

His tone warbles, unsteadily and Gladio frowns, putting a firm hand against his shoulder at the same moment Ignis begins rubbing a gentle circle into Prompto's back. That seems to finally make Ignis forget he's upset, as he chooses to focus more on being worried.

"I would imagine it has been… you watched Noct's fight?"

"H-his and the one before it." Prompto hiccups a little, his breathing shaky as he finally releases Ignis again and takes a few steps back. "The fighters—"

"I know. You needn't worry about them, Gladio and I already saw to them." Ignis shushes him quietly, though Gladio notes he pointedly avoids telling Prompto the end results. "Was Noct… well, no, I wouldn't suppose he's alright. I suspect he won his match… were his injuries severe?"

"I-I don't think so, I left pretty fast after his match ended…" Prompto squirms in place a few seconds, the way he does when he's fighting over whether or not he wants to tell them something. Specifically, when it's something he knows either of them—Ignis, especially—is going to be mad about.

It isn't too surprising, so far as Gladio's concerned. Weskham had raised Ignis; Cor had raised Prompto. Eventually, they were raised together and it wasn't too far-fetched to call them siblings, the same way Noctis considered Gladio his older brother and Iris his little sister; and both of them—Noctis more than Iris, granted—squirmed the same way when they didn't want Gladio to find out about something. As expected, Ignis recognises the behaviour as well and lets out a slow breath.

"Prompto. I promise, I won't be upset… what's wrong?"

"Yes, you will." Prompto's voice is quiet and he finally looks up; just as quickly he starts looking around, as though he's only just realised they're standing in the middle of Niflheim's back alley's and alarm settles over his features. "O-oh. We shouldn't—there's a detective—"

"Aranea?" Ignis offers, raising a brow. "You've already been to the station?"

"Y-yeah, I uh… s-she told me not to talk about it, but… but I can with you, right?" He looks more than a little anxious; it's not really an attempt to get out of the conversation but he finally seems to realise they shouldn't be talking about this in the middle of an alleyway.

"Of course. Aranea's aware of the situation and I suspect she'll be more open towards you once I confirm you're with me." Ignis makes a short, dismissive gesture before he goes quiet. Just for a moment before he meets Prompto's eye with a level expression. "Prompto, I need you to think about the station for a moment. While you were there, did you see a woman with long black hair? She would have been dressed much cleaner than anyone else, in a large fur coat or a simple black mini-dress."

Prompto looks confused by the question but almost immediately shakes his head. "No. Everyone there was either a cop or… no. The people not wearing uniforms looked really… uhm…."

"You can say dirty." Gladio's voice deadpans. "Trust us. We know, they know, _everyone_ knows. Just how Niflheim is, kid. If you aren't top of the food chain? You're basically nothing. Hell, the only reason fighters look remotely nourished and presentable is so they can throw us in more fights." He sighs, running a hand back through his hair when he looks over to Ignis.

"I should head to the ring… you two going to be okay alone?"

"Quite." Ignis nods a short affirmative. "Prompto can come to my apartment for now—"

"I have a motel—wait, no, that's not—I don't want to." Prompto shakes his head, hard, and sets his lips in a stubborn, thin line. Likely to keep from chewing on his bottom lip or looking as nervous as he must feel. "I wanna— _need_ to see Noct, I gotta know he's okay. I—y-you know where he is, right, Iggy? A-and if you're there, you can check him for injuries a-and… and…"

He trails off, clearly uncertain what else he can use as leverage to win whatever battle he's imagined up. Gladio raises an amused brow and exchanges a short smile with his boyfriend. Ignis has a remarkably fond smile on his face. Probably the softest expression he's managed since he arrived a few months earlier and Gladio finally realises why Cor was okay sending Prompto out here. As worrisome as it is… having Prompto around is probably exactly what they need. Like that last ember that could rekindle a campfire. Something that could make them smile at the end of the day.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears Ignis speak up again, voice mildly exasperated, but still gentle. "You needn't barter, Prompto. Noct's apartment is just as safe as mine and you are correct. I do need to assess his condition and I've the vaguest feeling whatever you were hesitating to tell me is relevant to him, as well." He casts Gladio a cursory look. "Join us after your matches… and, please—"

"I know." Gladio leans down, pressing a quick kiss to Ignis' forehead. "We'll be alright. If Noct won, Queen's probably right. Ravus ain't gonna be in no condition to fight… either gonna be pissed as hell or just puttin' on a show." It was a weird mindset, but whenever Loqi's win count reset, Ravus tended to make a point to ensure his reset as well. Gladio hasn't asked about it, yet; but, he also figures it isn't any of his business, either—

"Ravus is here, too?" Prompto sounds surprised. "W-wait, who—who all's—?"

"Soon." Ignis promises, gently cutting him off and finally pulling away from Gladio to put a hand against Prompto's back. "As you said… this is not somewhere to speak. We'll take the back way to Noctis' apartment; Gladio, you'll need to take the main streets to make it back to the ring on time."

Gladio gives a short nod, turning his attention to Prompto. "Prom, as soon as you get to Noct's apartment? Have him text me. I won't be able to check my phone, probably. But, you and Igs can't text me, unless it's an emergency—like. You two are in a life or death situation type emergency. Understand? Igs can walk you through all the safety measures we have in place once you get there. Even if somethin's wrong with Noct and he _can't_ text, text from his phone. Okay?"

He feels a little bad for the fear that immediately takes over Prompto's expression; but, rather put the fear of the situation in him than risk having him exposed so soon. He doesn't doubt for a second that, sooner or later, Izunia or Drautos is going to put two and two together and realise he's with them. But, for now… keeping him at a safe distance is their best bet.

Gladio hangs back, watching the two disappear further into the back alleys until he can't see them anymore, can't hear their steps echoing off the wall anymore, and then a few seconds longer to make sure there's no sudden noise. No sounds of an ambush or new conflict. Even then, the worry settles and knots tightly in his gut. With a heavy sigh, he finally turns towards to the main streets, walking a bit faster than he normally would. Not enough to be seen as a rush; but, larger steps, quicker steps, to make up for the minutes he used up trying to watch after them. Even if he's a little late—which, he won't be, probably—they were minutes well used, so far as he's concerned.

Now he just needs to get through these two fights so they can figure out what the Hell to do from here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Official Start To Finish Collaboration with [heyjealousy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjealousy)♥! She'll be handling Promptis focus, while I'm here to deliver Gladnis feels!
> 
> ♥ Be sure to check out [Giants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492/chapters/29155044) when you've a free moment, to get the full experience ♥

Ignis keeps his hand as a gentle pressure, a guiding force, in the small of Prompto's back, even as they enter the main streets from the opposite side of the alleys. Somehow, and he really isn't sure how, but the generalised area most of the fighters choose for housing—well. Choose is a bit of a strong word. None of them would willingly choose to live in _any_ of these apartments. No matter how often, how _hard_ he tries, he can never make any headway with trying to tidy the apartments. To the point even Noctis tries to keep his apartment _kind of_ cleaned up, is the standard a lot of them live in. And for a number of them—Ravus and Loqi, mostly, along with Ignis—are still fighting the losing battle for it to be a little less of a grim reminder of the situation they're in. 

As much as he complains internally, Ignis knows his situation is his own fault. Drautos had offered him one of the higher end apartments, with the rest of the ring's leaders. The problem with that particular arrangement—because Ignis has seen those apartments and… they aren't as nice as his and Gladio's apartment in Insomnia; but they're much more appealing than the disease-ridden death trap he's currently living in. But, the problem boils down to a simple fact: the higher end apartments are clear across town. Too far from the fighter apartments and, given that Ignis takes house calls for the non-Nifilian fighters, that makes the arrangement painfully inefficient. That and he's _very_ certain that if he did live as close as his uncle wants him to, the bugging in his apartment would have been a hundred times worse.

When he first came to Niflheim, Cor had old contacts point him towards the only people in the entire godforsaken country that would actually help him. Detective Aranea Highwind, technician Cindy Aurum, and… as surprising as it was, Luna. He's not sure how long Luna's been in Niflheim—or Cindy, for that matter; he's still surprised the police department allows a Lucian anywhere within their tech support staff... but, he figures she's probably run circles around them.

Luna's theory seems to be that Cindy was needed to replace Loqi, though no one can really confirm or deny those rumours. Regardless, those three had been a helpful presence when he first arrived. Cindy debugged his apartment for him, and was trying to find a way to debug his clinic without being obvious about it. Ignis is still thinking up an excuse to get away with debugging his work space. Doctor-patient confidentiality apparently has no leverage here, since all of his patients are fighters and they're rather looked down upon. He'll think of something, though. Aranea has copies of all of his medical files, all the injuries and deaths he's treated. He makes a note to forward the reports from Tredd and Petra's… "autopsies" later. After he sees to Noctis and Prompto.

At the thought of Prompto, he finally casts a cursory glance towards the blonde, a gentle, albeit sad, smile crossing his face. Prompto hasn't said a single word for the entire walk and, so far as Ignis can tell, hasn't once looked up from the sidewalk. His hands are deep in his pockets and, despite the way he leans into Ignis' side for a little extra warmth, he's being remarkably quiet. Well, Ignis supposes that he did say it wasn't safe to speak in public, but… he casts a glance around them just for assessment.

The streets are empty. Everyone's likely at the ring for the matches. Gladio and Ravus tend to draw in large crowds and, by now, word of Loqi's defeat has probably spread. For however much they may hate Ravus—and gods only knew what _that_ was about—the spectators knew to expect a Hell of a fight when Loqi lost and Ravus had a follow-up match. The streets are empty and they're getting ready to turn down another alley _anyways_ … now's a good a time as any to talk, he supposes.

"Prompto?" He waits until the blonde finally peeks up at him to offer a gentle smile. "It's alright to speak. I know what I said earlier and Ms. Highwind was not incorrect. Normally, speaking in public would be rather dangerous for us; but, I'm rather confident to assure you that most everyone will be at the ring for Gladio and Ravus' match." He tips his head in an indicative manner towards an upcoming alley. "We're going to take the back way to the apartments. It'll take a bit longer, but we're less likely to run into… less savoury officers if we do."

Prompto blinks at him, eyes furrowing. "W-why would we—?"

"You've already concluded the police's involvement in the ring, yes?" A miserable nod is the answer he receives and Ignis' smile thins. "Fighters are seen as property. They do not have the same freedom as civilians—even the Nifilian fighters are monitored closely when they're out and about. If any of them attempt to escape… they are apprehended rather quickly. I'm sure Noct has a few stories he can attest with. Not of him or Gladio; but, there are… other fighters who have tried to escape. If I'm not mistaken, a handful of the Nifilian fighters _are_ fighting because they attempted to leave the country with… delicate information."

Prompto's expression goes from horrified to surprise in record time and he's clearly latched onto _something_ Ignis said—

"Delicate as in they could help us—"

"Ms. Highwind already has the information in question." Ignis tries to rein him in with a gentle tone; but, it's difficult to keep the defeat from his own voice. He sighs and shakes his head a little. "Noct's match was against one of those fighters. Tummelt, yes?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Loqi, to my understanding, is fighting because he tried to leave. I am uncertain what information he has; but, he's already relayed what he could to Ms. Highwind. It may not have been much, or perhaps he merely lacked physical evidence to back his claims."

The disturbing part, perhaps, is the way Prompto goes quiet with those words. The way he looks like he's considering—

"Prompto." Ignis doesn't mean for his voice to be as strict as it comes across and he does feel rather genuinely bad for the way the blonde jumps, but… this isn't a risk he's willing to take. "I'm in no position to tell you what you may or may not do, but I will tell you _once_ : Do not even think about it."

"But, I could—"

" _No_. I've a feeling I know why they sent you and, truly, I’m grateful. Honestly, any help we can get is… ideal. I don't have to enjoy the fact; but, I do know that it is necessary. That said," his expression hardens a fraction, "I'll not have you throwing yourself recklessly into such dangerous situations. It's bad enough you can get into the matches. How did you _even_?"

Prompto shifts for a short moment and shoves his hands even deeper into his pockets. "Dad uh… gave me the password thing…"

Ah. Cor's doing. Of course. _That_ made sense. Ignis releases a strained breath through his nose and shakes his head. He waits until they've turned down the alley and are a few feet from the entrance to finally speak up again.

"We'll speak about _that_ later. I suspect the match has something to do with whatever you're hiding from me." He sees Prompto flinch in his periphery; he's definitely spot on with that, at least. Still… "You've questions, I'm certain. You may ask, if you wish. I suspect you'll forget to ask Noct once we get to his apartment and… even if you didn't, I doubt you two wish to waste whatever precious time you have talking about what's transpired lately."

Prompto just blinks at him for a few long moments before looking back down at the concrete beneath their feet. Or… what's visible beneath the stray litter and debris and little bits of snow that are beginning to decorate the streets. After a long moment he finally speaks up in a quiet voice, "You an' Gladio really aren't mad at each other? Cuz that was…it… didn't look like you were fakin' it."

Ignis gives a soft, humourless chuckle and shakes his head. "No, Prompto. Gladio and I are not fighting. As he said: It was the story given when I arrived and… it was something we had to improvise rather suddenly."

"Why? I mean… it's been three years, Specs, why would you—"

"Because I am in a very delicate position as is, Prompto." He cuts him off as gently as he can, his smile likely not as reassuring as he would like it to be. "Gladio and I… I should start at the beginning. You recall I left quite a few months ago, I presume."

"Yeah… but you closed your clinic like two years ago… I-I thought you were just… y'know, still upset…"

"Oh, I was. Weskham suggested I close the clinic well before he offered me any answers." Another mirthless laugh and he shakes his head. "He expected me to take time to myself and try to get back on my feet by coping with the information that Noct and Gladio were missing, instead of recklessly throwing myself at work. He was not incorrect; but, he did not succeed in convincing me to close shop until he finally told me what was going on." Ignis tilts his head, trying to bring the memory to the forefront of his attention. It isn't a difficult one to find and he lets out a slow breath. "Cor confirmed what Weskham told me and, I'm sure you also recall that I became rather… aggressive with demanding answers from Noct and Gladio's fathers about then."

"Y-yeah… and then you just… stopped…" Prompto frowns. "Thought maybe you stopped carin' but... opposite was true, wasn't it?"

"Quite. They caved when Cor and Weskham became involved and I spent two years being drilled on what would happen when I got here." Ignis sighs and glances at Prompto finally. "It is… worrisome that they sent you so quickly. Do not misunderstand, I'm quite grateful you're here. You can do things Ms. Highwind and I cannot, after all. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy the fact, however. But… I also know I won't convince you to return home, either."

Prompto stubbornly shakes his head 'no' to confirm the statement and Ignis laughs, a bit more naturally. "As I thought… where was I… ah, yes. I arrived a few months ago and… initially, the plan was… ah. I suppose Weskham and I never quite told you the extent of my family situation, did we?"

"Uh… n-no…? W-why, what does that have to—" Prompto cuts off, his eyes going wide, "Iggy, you're—?"

"No, no. Not by blood, at any rate." Ignis shakes his head. "My family has roots in Tenebrae, mostly. But, my understanding, is one of my aunts married into a Galahdan family. I'm uncertain what became of her, though I know she passed away when I was younger. Regardless, my uncle moved out to Niflheim… I'm uncertain why, truly. Galahdan families aren't treated much better than Lucians here; though, both see mildly preferential treatment to Tenebraeans." He shrugs one shoulder, "Or, perhaps they just dislike Ravus and Luna very specifically—"

" _Luna's_ here, too?"

Ignis gives him a pointed look for cutting him off again and sighs, nodding a short affirmative. "She is. Luna and I are the only two doctors in the entire city—probably the entire _country_ that are willing to treat the non-Nifilian fighters as readily as Nifilian. It's… difficult, but we manage. May I continue now?"

"S-sorry." Prompto flashes him a sheepishly apologetic look before he frowns and finally seems to realise what Ignis is getting at. "Your uncle… he's… he's involved in the matches?"

"Indeed. I was unaware of that when I arrived, however." Ignis sighs. "It was a risky plan. But, I figured… if there were any way to get a start here it would be risky. And this was far less dangerous than other courses of action. Far against my better judgment, I called him on my way over. I didn't tell Cor or Weskham until after the fact and they were very rightly upset with me for quite a few hours; but, it worked out in my favour. It was a bit surreal, honestly." He laughs a little with the admission. "I've not spoken to the man in well over ten years prior to this and… truly, I can't remember when I saw him last. I believe it was before I came to Lucis. Regardless, I got in touch with him and asked for any advice he had on adapting to Niflheim's rather isolationist views. In hindsight, I'm uncertain how he knew I had a medical license, though I suppose it isn't far removed that he's kept tabs on me and… that's how we—Gladio and I, rather—got where we currently are."

Ignis sighs again, finally pulling his arm away from Prompto so he can cross both arms against his stomach, tight to his body in some feeble attempt at self-comfort as much as warding off the cold.

"The story we agreed on, was that I left Lucis for a change of scenery. There was far too much heartbreak back home and… it was not a lie. Some days, just walking down the street to the corner store was… overwhelming. It was a walk I made with Gladio on a nearly regular basis. It was a walk I made when I needed something to ensure Noct and you were eating properly and not relying on takeout. It was… remarkably infuriating, honestly. Not being able to separate myself from the nostalgia, despite how much I tried. It lingered."

He pauses for a short moment, trying to find his next words.

"Back on track, I suppose." Ignis pulls a deep breath to try forcing his attention on the task at hand. Normally, focusing isn't quite this difficult but this… this is proving to be more than a little so. "As I said, my uncle was aware of my medical license and that was alarming enough on its own. It was the reason I waited to update Cor and Weskham on the situation, because I had to reassess just _what_ I needed to do and what information was safe to disclose. When I arrived, my uncle met me almost immediately and said he had a proposition to make, if I were willing to meet in the middle and after assuring I remembered what I knew of Niflheim."

He trails off there as he thinks about it and Prompto makes a questioning noise to try getting his attention back.

"My uncle did try, briefly, to keep in contact with me after he moved to Niflheim. I visited him once, I believe. Or, I was supposed to. Weskham intervened before I could… in hindsight, it was a wise move on his part. Gods only know what could have happened, had I gone." Ignis casts a cursory glance to his side. "Niflheim has very simple rules. Trust no one with _any_ personal information. Even family is a dangerous subject. I took a substantial risk disclosing what little I did to my uncle, when he clearly has information on me that I most certainly never gave him. Regardless, he was willing to include me in something extremely personal, provided I could prove what I'd told him."

Ignis lets his attention drift back to the path they're walking to ensure they're still on course. Once he does, he pulls another deep breath. "I suspect he knew about Gladio and me from the beginning. The job he had for me was relevant to my medical license because they were losing too many non-Nifilian fighters. Fighters that could bring larger crowds because if there was one thing the spectators wanted… it was Lucian blood to be spilled. Rather difficult to do when you've not enough fighters to make a convincing match." Ignis rubs his arms in a self-conscious manner. "They get far less spectators when it's a Lucian versus Lucian match. There are still those that would watch us destroy ourselves; but, what they desire more than that… is for a Nifilian fighter to triumph over the others. To my knowledge, Loqi—Tummelt, rather, the one you saw fighting earlier, has a rather spectacular winning streak. But, lately… he's been a bit defiant. Whether or not he's throwing matches or just genuinely doesn't care whether or not he loses anymore, I'm uncertain. But, from what I'm told he's been here a bit longer than most of the others."

"So… he still loses, but he's still popular?"

"He's won before—I mean… won his freedom." Ignis explains, turning to glance at Prompto. "I'm uncertain what all Cor explained about the matches to you. Do you understand how the win count tallies up?"

"K-kinda… most of it flew over my head, but… essentially, whoever wins a hundred matches gets to leave, right?"

"Correct. Loqi's one of the few Nifilian fighters _to_ do so. Before him, it was Mr. Caelum and Mr. Amicitia that kept the 100-match Titles." He waits for a short moment for the information to sink in. He sees the exact moment it does, too, as Prompto's expression goes from surprise, to distress, to deep seated confusion as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and his brows knit tight together.

"But… if he's won a hundred matches… why was he fightin' Noct?"

" _That_ is another question." Ignis smiles, gently, trying to pull Prompto back on topic. "I apologise for getting off topic. Shall I finish your first question?"

"O-oh. Right. Yes, please. You and Gladio—so… your uncle wanted you to open a clinic… to treat Lucian fighters?"

"Lucian, Galahdan… and, of course, Tenebraean. There are times Ravus will refuse medical treatment to avoid upsetting Luna with some of his injuries. Other times, officials will forbid him from seeing her. A story for a bit later." Ignis waves the evident upcoming protest off and tries to stay on track. "His test for me, I suppose, was to have me meet some of the potential clients I would be seeing. There are… a number of people here that we know. But, most importantly, Noct and Gladio were present."

He thinks on it for a short moment before he sighs and tries to continue, "I was lucky. He allowed me a few days to get my bearings and adjust to the sudden change in temperature and time zone. It allowed me to seek out Ms. Highwind and Ms. Aurum and Luna. Luna gave me a rundown of what to expect and an idea of who I would be seeing. Ravus, by proxy, became aware of my presence rather quickly; but, he didn't have enough time to warn Noct or Gladio. So, when my uncle introduced me to the fighters…"

He trails off, allowing Prompto to find his own conclusions on the matter. The blonde is clearly working through it; but, he soon frowns and gives a short nod. "I mean… I'd be surprised if you showed up outta nowhere after three years…."

"Not just surprised, unfortunately." Ignis sighs. "Gladio, I suspect, was at least instinctually aware of the situation as a whole; but, Noct, like yourself, was not accustomed to the behaviour we immediately portrayed towards one another. Gladio was in shock, I assure you; but, he knew to mind his tongue. Noct was a tad more overwhelmed. Though, I'm certain, even without his questions, my uncle already knew our… circumstances. He merely used Noct's outburst to question my motives in justifiable manner. I… confirmed his suspicions, that Gladio was the reason I had left Insomnia. He and the ring director, Mr. Izunia, offered to keep Noct and Gladio out of my clinic. I suspect that was also a test, but it was not one I could afford to worry about failing or passing. I told them I would still see Gladio and Noct, both, regardless of my personal feelings on the matter, and that it would not pose a problem. They accepted the answer, though… it still took many weeks for me to get in contact with either of them. They made certain to send me as many fighters as they could to keep me busy those first few weeks, likely to test my skill just as much as my loyalty."

"So… you're acting like that… cuz that's what your uncle expects…?"

"Essentially." Ignis runs a hand back through his hair before he shakes his head. "We could easily amend the fabrication as rekindled feelings and mending wounds… but, it's… much easier if we maintain a distance in public. We have our moments alone, don't get me wrong… but, in the public eye it's… a bit more dangerous if we allow too much to be known. Personal information is _exactly_ that, here, Prompto. You do not share anything with _anyone_ you do not already know you can trust. It was a risk to go to the police, but I can confidently assure you that Ms. Highwind can be trusted. She has her own reasons for wishing to bring down the ring, same as any of us." He pauses for a short moment, a frown crossing his face, "That said… what _did_ happen at the station, Prompto? I can't imagine you were well-met prior to Ms. Highwind's involvement."

For a short moment, Prompto hesitates and squirms under the question before he finally seems to realise he probably _should_ answer. Not necessarily because Ignis is going to _make_ him… but, because they need to be working together. Honestly, Ignis has no intention of forcing the issue… but, he does want to help if he can.

"I… _promise_ you aren't gonna be mad?"

"Prompto, I'm likely going to be livid no matter what." Ignis points out. "That said, I'm… confident enough that whatever you've done… it was to help Noct and Ms. Highwind's likely lectured you for whatever dangerous stunt you've pulled."

That gets him a weak smile and Prompto fishes his phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the screen to unlock it. "So… I… I caught the match before Noct's right? A-and… they took my jacket so—so I didn't have my camera and I should've thought of my phone earlier, but I didn't. The guy at the door was keeping an eye on me, though, and… when the medics came to take the first two fighters he was distracted so… I made a break for it."

Ignis raises a brow, "A break for _where_ precisely—?"

He cuts off abruptly as the logical conclusion catches up with him. Prompto refuses to meet his eye and is focused rather intently on his phone. He didn't—there's no way he would actually—

"You _did not_ go into the lockers." His tone comes out as more of a warning than a question and he feels a rush of disbelief and anger flood his system when the blonde gives a short, timid nod. Ignis pulls a deep, slow breath through his nose and exhales to pull himself back under control. "I'm… more than livid. But… you are alive so… I will let it go for the moment. Continue."

"I—I was just tryin' to find Noct… o-or Gladio or you or _anyone_. Heard people talkin' but didn't recognise'm, so I hid. M'small enough to get in a lot of the corner spots, so… I did. Dad told me to take pictures of the locker rooms if I could and—and, I know I should've thought of the fact I had my phone, earlier, but… I didn't. And when I did, I… I got distracted…"

"You found Noct, you mean." Ignis offers, his tone still more than a little annoyed. Prompto gives a short, miserable nod and Ignis sighs. "I… Prompto, I'm not mad you found him. I'm mad you were so _reckless_. What if you'd been caught? You're fortunate Izunia didn't catch you back there or the man at the door didn't find you—"

"Detective Highwind said she needs dirt on him—on Izunia, I mean. I—he came to get Noct for his fight." Prompto squirms some more and grips his phone a little bit tighter. "Noct told me to hide and I did and he got him to leave so I could get back into the crowd. But… I managed to get part of their conversation. A-and some pictures of the fights. I—I wanted to get pictures of the locker room, I really did, but I panicked and… m'sorry…"

Ignis blinks, his brows drawing tight together as he tries to process the apology. "Sorry for what? Prompto, you're alive. I may be cross with you, but I'm not upset you tried to help. Those pictures are things Ms. Highwind _drastically_ needs. And you managed to secure an audio file? She and Ms. Aurum will be delighted, why are you apologising?"

Prompto stops walking, his eyes on the ground and his shoulders pulling inward as he tries to hunch in on himself. He pulls his phone tight to his chest, like it's his only lifeline. Ignis stops walking and moves around in front of him so he can put a hand beneath his chin, tilting his head up as gently as he can. Concern fills him as he tries to coax eye contact out of the blonde, just as much as an answer. "Prompto… why are you apologising? You did _marvelous_."

"Because… it _was_ reckless. I—I could've been caught, I could've got Noct in trouble a-and… and we were talking in the locker room and it's probably bugged and—"

"Shh, shh, shh… it's alright. Prompto, look at me." Ignis waits until he's obeyed and offers a gentle smile. "It was a lot to take in. The first match you saw was likely extremely jarring _and_ you found Noct. I suspect that was rather overwhelming. It… was reckless, yes. But, I can assure you that the lockers likely aren't as heavily bugged as we believe." Prompto makes a questioning noise and Ignis laughs a quiet note. "I'll explain later. But, the officials have… mildly underestimated a pair of their fighters. There are indeed bugs; but, let's just say that… they rather frequently go on the fritz for no apparent reason. Any talking they happen to pick up tends to be drowned in static. It's alright."

"But… I didn't get any pictures—I mean. Of the fight, I did. I got a few of Noct's fight, somehow. H-his and Tummelt—er… Loqi. You said his name was Loqi… is… we like him?"

"He's… an ally, yes." Ignis smiles. "You can ask Noct about him. They're… amiable with one another outside of the ring. Usually. Regardless, you got _something_. Something no one else has been able to get. You've given Ms. Highwind hope; and, I suspect… you've given Noct something to work towards."

Prompto frowns at that and reaches up, rubbing his eyes on the back of his arm to try clearing the moisture that was building up and sniffles a bit as he tries to figure out what Ignis means. "I mean… goin' home's a good thing to work towards…."

"Going home isn't quite so tangible as one would believe it to be." A gentle laugh escapes and he reaches over to give Prompto's hair a gentle ruffle. " _You_ are something tangible; and, more so, you are someone that can pick Noct up and keep him fighting at his best. I was beginning to worry about him… it seems that worry may have been for naught. So I hope."

Not that Noctis has necessarily given up; but, there has been a rather distinct difference in his attitude, as opposed to Gladio's. A bit more like Loqi's, honestly; like he didn't have much of a direction to go in and was literally fighting to ensure he didn't _die_. Prompto was that little bit of incentive he needed to work towards an end goal.

Even so, Prompto doesn't seem entirely convinced. He looks like he's still wrapping his mind around it, but doesn't argue. Instead, he just gives a short nod and looks down at his phone. "I guess… Noct was mad at me for bein' here, too. Tried to tell me to go home, but… I can't. Not until he gets to come home, I—I'm not goin' back without him. Without all of you."

Ignis raises a brow; but, the words bring a smile back to his face. A bit more natural and more playful than he's been able to manage lately. Three years and Prompto still looked the part of a lost puppy without Noctis. Though… to be fair, Noctis wasn't much better without Prompto around. Ignis suspects he'll be seeing a rather obvious change in his demeanor soon enough.

Before he can voice as much, Prompto steps forward, wrapping his arms tight around Ignis' chest and burying his face against a shoulder. Ignis blinks and brings a hand up to rest on his head, while his free arm returns the hug in a loose gesture. Concern returns and he frowns softly, "Prompto?"

"I missed you. A-and Gladio and Noct, but… you were the only one I still had when they went missin' and then all of a sudden you were missin' and _no one_ would tell me anything and… I'm glad you're okay, Iggy." Prompto sniffles a bit and rubs his face against the shoulder he's hiding in. "Tryin' not to get your jacket wet… sorry…"

Ignis smiles and finally returns the hug a little bit tighter. "I missed you, too, and… I'm sorry I left without saying anything." He leans down enough to give his hair a gentle kiss and another ruffle. "I wanted to. I wanted to call and tell you Noct was alright, but… well, rather foolish of me to assume you wouldn't eventually find your way here." He sighs a little and shakes his head. "No matter… you're here, same as I am, and I suspect neither of us are leaving until we work this mess out. Agreed?"

Prompto steps back and gives a passionate, agreeing nod. "Not goin' home until that place don't exist anymore. Promise?"

"Absolutely." Ignis smiles and ruffles his hair once more. "Now then. We've a certain someone to attend to, no? I know he's anxious to see you. Come along, I still have more to go over before we get there."

Prompto looks ready to protest the teasing but is almost immediately distracted by the rest of the words. "Oh… right, Gladio said you guys have… safety measures in place? What're those? I mean, obviously stuff to keep from gettin' caught, but…?"

"Quite. The first rule is that neither of us are to get in contact with them in a manner that can be traced." Ignis gestures to the phone still in Prompto's hand. "My advice would be, quite unfortunately, to block Noct's number for now. Until we can get you a more secure method of communication."

"Like a throwaway line?" Prompto frowns and tilts his head. "You don't already have those?"

"We do. But, they tend to be for emergencies only, since we can only use them so many times before a pattern emerges." Ignis makes a vague gesture to emphasize the words. "There are people monitoring the fighters' lines. Especially Gladio and Noct's, likely due to the connection to their fathers… Noct may have better insight to explain what was happening then. It's… complicated, is my understanding."

That gets a confused blink. "Too complicated for you?"

"Don't be cheeky. We simply haven't time for me to figure a way to explain it concisely enough." Ignis gives him a pointed look before continuing. "We'll try to keep you an unknown for as long as possible… but, I also believe it may be a bit more advantageous _for_ you to be a known factor. At least through association to me. Not necessarily to Noct, but… that may inevitably come to light. We can work with that, though."

Prompto frowns again, clearly uncertain. "… I gotta treat Noct like you an' Gladio are actin'?"

"Not necessarily." Ignis thinks on it for a short moment. "You mentioned staying in a motel, correct?"

"Uh… yeah. It's—it's on the other side of town, but I can get to the ring pretty easy from there… why? S-should I not?" Prompto fidgets a little. "I already debugged it—"

This time Ignis is the one that stops walking and turns a startled look on Prompto. "You what— _how_?"

"Uh… dad gave me a thing?" The blonde blinks at him. "I have it in my bag, mixed in with some of my clothes and stuff… why?"

"... Ah. From Mr. Sophiar, I wager… I… may need to borrow that." Ignis shakes his head a few times, trying to get back on track. "That said… it may be more efficient for you to invest in an apartment. I can secure you one close to mine, for security's sake. Gladio and Noct will likely protest this rather vehemently, but… I believe it may be beneficial you meet my uncle. It will give you a bit of leeway to spend time around the clinic, instead of confining yourself to your room and the ring. Give that a few weeks and we can easily alter a story that you've taken a liking to Noct. Or even just after his next fight. I promise, we'll find a way to make it work so you two needn't be as guarded as Gladio and I, alright?"

Prompto gives a slow nod, frowning. "I… I guess… I mean, I still don't like you two pretendin' you're fightin' but… okay…" He glances back up after a moment. "What else?"

"Should anyone ask—anyone you do not know, until we can introduce you to those you can trust—we will need a story for you to be here. I suspect Cor has given you one." Ignis murmurs, thinking on the words for a moment. "…A journalist working on an exposé of sorts?"

"... I hate it when you do that…"

Ignis chuckles a little and shakes his head, "My apologies. In light of that, I should warn you that those words may get you in trouble with certain parties. When you meet my uncle, if he's so inclined to ask… you came after me, to try convincing me to return to Lucis. Alright?"

Prompto blinks at him again. "I mean… that isn't a story of any sort—"

"Of course, it isn't." Ignis smiles. "The easiest lies to tell are ones that _aren't_ lies. Just… a simple omission of minor details. They needn't know you're here for Noct and Gladio, as well; their interest will mostly be in why you're around me for the time being and, by proxy, you will be around the others. A simple story with a few missing words. That's all."

"...You're… scary good at this. Like, really scary good." Despite that, Prompto's trying to grin. It's the best attempt he's made since he found Ignis and Gladio; so, Ignis will take what he can get. "Got it… don't text or call Noct or Gladio… only talk to you guys about the exposé until I meet the others… lie by omission. … Easy enough…"

"You'll be fine, Prompto," Ignis puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, leading him out of the alley they've been walking through. "And, next time, I'll make sure you're paying attention to where we're going."

The blonde startles and looks around, clearly confused, before he finally looks up at the rickety old building. Ignis feels a pang of sympathy, watching the hope and colour drain from his face as he takes the appearance in and finally looks over the building himself. Honestly, some days, he isn't sure how the old thing's still standing. It looks ready to collapse at the first sign of a strong storm, though… honestly, Niflheim's weather has been more towards cold fronts and blizzards than heavy winds and rain to batter the buildings. Even so… Ignis knows for a fact the inside is just as bad. The walls are rotting and thin, barely able to keep the cold out, and the _rooms_ … he doesn't even want to think about the rooms. He glances over at Prompto again, offering a thin smile. "Come along. Up to Noct's room we go, yes?"

This may be the absolute worst idea they've had, honestly, having Prompto involved. But, given that he's likely made more leeway than _anyone_ in recent memory, just with a few pictures? Ignis has to hope that maybe… _maybe_ they can all finally go home soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic/Sibling Iggy and Prompto feels were absolutely necessary uvu ♥ Thanks as always for reading o/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Official Start To Finish Collaboration with [heyjealousy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjealousy)♥! She'll be handling Promptis focus, while I'm here to deliver Gladnis feels!
> 
> ♥ Be sure to check out [Giants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492/chapters/29155044) when you've a free moment, to get the full experience ♥ | [Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492/chapters/29789976) is up!

With Noctis attended to and Prompto in the safety of Noctis' apartment, Ignis takes his leave, after assuring they both know to come get him if anything happens. The text to Gladio is sent, informing him to just return to his own room, that Noctis has been cleared for the moment—injuries treated, at least, and some vague relief that he won't have to fight again too soon—and Ignis… probably _should_ head home himself. But, given he has the day to relax… he's going to do the absolute best he can in the absolute last place he wants to be.

As much as he hates his own apartment, it's still leaps and bounds compared to the fighters' apartments. He's at least managed to finally block out the disgusting colour on the walls—the faded lime green that looks like weeks old pea soup, paint peeling and molding in some places; but the one thing he _hasn't_ quite adjusted to is the carpet. Shag carpet that's _impossible_ to clean, no matter what he tries; shag carpet that is absolutely matted with grime and old blood stains and Six only _knew_ what some of the other stains were. They were definitely stains Ignis _didn't_ want to consider the origins off and that, more than anything, is the only thing that makes him even remotely willing to sit on the equally questionable bed as he waits. 

As rude as he knows it is, he refuses to take his shoes off in the apartment, even when it means he draws his legs up to the bed, crossing his legs in a lotus-position and simply staring down at his phone for a long moment. The text to Gladio was sent and he has no reason to worry. Noctis confirmed Loqi's defeat, which means it's high likely that Ravus will find a way to throw the match while making it look like a convincing amount of effort was put forth. Loqi and Luna will likely have choice words later; but, it's a known system. The only fight Ignis _needs_ to worry about is whatever may come from the _second_ fight… and even _that_ is assuming Shiva was telling the truth and that Izunia didn't decide on some whimsical happenstance to switch the match order and have the punishment fight take place first and Ravus' second.

Ignis shakes his head, hard, a few times and tries to push the thoughts away. Surprisingly enough, or perhaps not so much, the task is quite easy, as he recalls exactly how this odd turn of events had come about. They had been going to the police station… and gotten rather horrendously distracted by finding Prompto. But, if Shiva hadn't been there waiting… that couldn't be a simple coincidence, could it?

A short moment of consideration and he finally pulls the card from his breast pocket, turning it over between his fingers a few times. 

_Meet me at the police station_ …

Very direct orders. Prompto had managed to get to the police station after watching Noctis' entire fight, likely by running. Shiva would have had the luxury of traveling by car and would have arrived well before Prompto or at least been there at the same time. He and Gladio had been close enough to the precinct to have noticed her limo, given how empty the streets were; and, even if they hadn't… those in charge were rarely shy about their public appearances. Shiva may have been a bit more subtle, but still didn't travel without at least two guard detail cars. Izunia was even more extravagant, given the proper chance.

So… he's quite certain she had no intention of actually _meeting_ him… perhaps he can use this to his advantage, however. It's… dangerous to use the throw-away phone he has for this. Almost as dangerous as using his personal phone. If he uses his personal line and the woman proves to be untrustworthy, she has valuable information. On the other hand, should he use the throw-away line… she has almost _more_ valuable information and he loses his ability to contact Gladio in secret, in case an emergency ever comes about.

Which one is he willing to risk…?

 _…following young Caelum's match_ …

Ignis stares, long and hard, at the handwriting. The nagging feeling is back, poking and prodding and sinking claws into the back of his mind as he wracks his memory for any hints as to where he's seen it. He runs through all the documentation he's seen since arriving in Niflheim, any associates that would have been in Mr. Caelum's employee… nothing matches. It's right there on the tip of his tongue and that, perhaps, it what finally helps him decide. The uncertainty is still decidedly infuriating. He's still more than a little upset with the events and, more so, the fact he can _not_ place the origin of this blasted penmanship… but he has to believe that it's someone he knows. Just as he _hopes_ to believe it's someone he can trust.

With that thought and only a second longer of hesitation, Ignis finally pulls his personal cell phone from a jacket pocket and, slowly but surely, taps the numbers on the business card into his phone.

The area code and extension don't match against usual Niflheim code… nothing local, in fact. So, Shiva had her own private line—a line with a Lucian extension, at that—that just happened to operate within Niflheim's territory. That's certainly… odd, but not unheard of. If Ignis were to be too nit-picky, he knows he would find himself under equal scrutiny. His own phone had a Lucian extension; so, it was entirely possible that Shiva _had_ come from Lucis looking to escape her old life. Regardless, that is none of Ignis' business. His only business is figuring out how he would be able to help the Niflian elite—

His thoughts cut off rather suddenly around the third ring and a gentle voice filters through his mind.

_"Shiva speaking, how may I assist you?"_

Right. She didn't have his number. The secretary-like greeting throws him for a short moment before he recovers and clears his throat as politely as possible.

"My apologies, ma'am, I do hope I am not interrupting anything?"

_"Doctor. What a pleasant surprise. Give me one moment, won't you?"_

A sharp rustle filters from the other end of the phone—enough to make Ignis flinch and pull the phone a short distance from his ear to try avoiding it. Like a jacket being set down or a shirt pulled on. Her phone being set down in a sea of clothes? Regardless, none of the answers actually seem appealing. Before he can find the mind to apologise and offer to call back later, the woman's voice returns.

_"My apologies. We were just cleaning up from the last fight. The audience decided that young Caelum and Tummelt required… refreshment before their fights?"_

Ignis frowns a little and barely holds in the sigh. It's not uncommon for drinks to be thrown, least of all when Noctis has a fight… he isn't surprised. Really. But… that also means—

_"Amicitia's fight will begin shortly and I've numbers to run for it. You've a reason to call, I presume?"_

If he wasn't certain before… he definitely is now. He looks at his phone for a short moment before pulling a short breath and hoping he can keep a level tone. "Yes, ma'am. Though… I've a feeling you know why I've called. I wished to thank you for your card and… perhaps set a date for our next appointment? I'm being told by… interested parties that I should invest in a few days to myself, since our more infamous fighters will be free for a few days after this?"

A soft laugh comes from the other line before the woman answers. _"Clever lad. You found what you were looking for, I suspect… marvelous. I suggest you take care not to misplace such things in the future… one never knows when vultures will swoop down upon the unsuspecting. You are correct, however. I've need to speak with you, though little desire to interrupt your days of rest… I feel you will be quite busy for the next week or so, regardless of Caelum or Amicitia being away from the ring."_

Ignis frowns a little at that. Before he can ask for clarification, however, Shiva continues with a gentle hum.

_"Mr. Drautos informs us that you declined your right to stay somewhere more… comfortable. To keep an open door policy with the fighters, as I understand."_

"That would be correct, ma'am. I was under the impression there was no issue with my decision, so long as the matches were able to continue." Ignis frowns, trying to pick his words as carefully as possible. He wants answers… but, how much can he actually say to _get_ those answers without revealing more about himself? Just knowing the woman has his personal contact information now—

 _"I find your decision quite refreshing, my darling boy."_ He wants to believe the gentle tone is a lie. Just another carefully crafted manipulation technique, forged in from the city around them; but… it almost feels believable. It almost makes him forget that he _shouldn't_ be trusting Shiva as much as he is. Almost. He releases a slow breath, waiting for her to continue. _"Lady Nox Fleuret was quite overwhelmed prior to your arrival and, as you know, there were injuries she was not permitted to treat. Wounds that cost us many fights, as things needed to be rearranged. We were_ quite _fortunate to have such a skilled technician on hand, would you not agree?"_

Ignis remains quiet for a spell, his frown etching deeper as he considers the words. He's heard… pieces of what happened to Ravus. He knows Luna was not permitted to treat her brother—that she was fed the most asinine lies for _weeks_ to keep her from checking on him; but, Ravus had made… more or less a full recovery. He would never fight as well as he once did, no. But, he had his life and he had… a limb, at least. Perhaps not his own. But, his arm is responsive enough to get him through matches with people that are… less subtle about targeting the left side of his body. Lucian and Galahdan fighters, at least, are mindful to keep damage to the left side as minimal as they can. Ravus doesn't agitate his wounds any further by using that to his advantage, thankfully; but, other fighters… certain Nifilian fighters, rather, absolutely take advantage of the prosthetic. Ravus may have control over his arm, but the right hit in the wrong spot can still render it useless. He has no pain sensors in that arm to tell him if something is off. So, Ignis is, quite unfortunately, no stranger to having to replace the limb altogether. 

He's tried asking Loqi for details—about how the arm works, how he even managed to secure the prosthetic, how he maintains it—but the most it's gotten him is thinly veiled sass and sarcasm and Ravus giving him pointed looks not to press the matter. For both their sakes, likely. 

_"Doctor? Are you still there?"_

Shiva's voice snaps him from his thoughts and he gives a short, apologetic cough. "I—my apologies, I was just… you reminded me I have errands I need to see to during my rest days, my most sincere apologies, ma'am—"

 _"You needn't apologise."_ Shiva cuts him off, surprisingly gentle. Well… not, not surprising. Not from her. For where they are? Yes, that's surprising; but, the more he thinks about it, the more he realises this is just… her. Whether it's a facade or not, however… he shakes the thoughts away for later when she continues. _"In light of the knowledge that you've found what you were looking for, you may disregard my earlier request. I will call to meet you, when you've the time."_

"If I may, before you go, ma'am?" Internally, Ignis feels himself panic. He tries not to let it seep into his voice, all the while mentally berating himself for even _considering_ this. "How did you know I had lost something?"

A short stretch of silence fills the air and Ignis almost wonders if the woman hung up without warning. But, before he can ask again, a breathy laugh comes through the line, amusement rather blatant in the words. _"I'm very observant, my dear. There was a fuss… and I am_ very _attuned to such disturbances. Do try to monitor your assets more closely, darling. I cannot be responsible for lost and found items_ all _the time. Will that be all?"_

"I… believe so, yes ma'am. My apologies for taking up your time and thank you again for pointing me towards what was lost." He pulls a slow breath and, as an afterthought, adds. "I… hope the fight is satisfactory."

_"As do I, for the sake of all involved parties. Shall I contact you at the office or this number, to arrange our next meeting?"_

The dread that initially tries to bubble up from his gut is almost immediately dispelled by the words. A peace offering? Or did she suspect this to be a throwaway line? … Perhaps… a show of faith? A test of sorts? He weighs his options for a short moment before answering.

"Either number will do. This number will definitely reach me; however, should I be in the office, I will take calls there, as well."

 _"Spectacular. I will inquire your schedule when you return to work, then, doctor."_ The smile is almost evident in her voice; it does absolutely nothing for his confusion. _"Enjoy your days of rest, doctor… I can only imagine what you'll be coming back to."_

Before Ignis can even consider asking for clarification, the line goes silent and he slowly brings his phone away to stare at the screen. For a short moment, it's his home screen. A default setting that he's fairly certain came from the store when he _got_ the phone a few years ago. As much as he normally hates staring at the logo-based background, it does remind him he'll need to speak to Prompto again, later, if Noctis doesn't first. Or if Aranea hasn't already told him. It's been a few months since Ignis saw him; but, it's been three years for Prompto and Noctis… and that hadn't been enough to make Prompto change his lockscreen and home screen images. Still him and Noctis… that needed to be changed. Perhaps Cor managed to warn him already and hopefully Prompto actually listened to that warning… and to clear all the pictures from his phone. _That_ he's probably done, if he was considering using his phone for photo evidence in place of his camera. Or, if he hasn't, Ignis has a number of backup externals he can let Prompto use. Most are for emergencies, one or two for keeping files on hand to pass of to Aranea as the opportunity arises…

That, unfortunately, derails his entire thought process as he's reminded he needs to deliver the most recent autopsies and death certificates to her. Notes on Noctis' injuries. Gladio's, when he gets home, because Six only know he can't get through a fight with Ravus without sustaining new injuries. Aranea can't do much with them, at present; but, having meticulously labeled documentation when she _is_ eventually able to get the case open again… he has to hope that will make all of this worthwhile. It gives him something to do, absolutely; but, the number of times he's had to update Gladio and Noctis' files is damning and harder every time he needs to add new pages. It reminds him of calmer times—times when changing their medical files was just making notes of any minor injuries they'd managed to get. The time Noctis sprained his ankle, because he and Prompto decided sneaking out in the middle of the night, to go climbing trees on the edge of Insomnia to watch the sunrise was a good idea. When Gladio sprained his wrist helping Cid move things in his garage and caught a falling frame the wrong way. The scar through his eye, because a drunk tried to jump Noctis—

Gods, when did _that_ become a minor injury? When did Ignis stop worrying about things being worse than eye scar? He knows the generalised answer but… how much _worse_ can it get? Worse than the torso scar that cuts through his tattoo? Than the finally healed over gnashes and bites in his arms and legs from beast fights? Burns that no one seems too keen on sharing the origin of. Loqi had at least informed him that there were mech fights; but, no further details. What did that even _mean_? Turrets? Drones? Androids of sorts? 

Ignis shakes his head, hard, at that and sighs. He brings one hand up to push his glasses away and rub at his eyes. When did life become a B-Rated post-apocalyptic wasteland and why did he stop questioning it? Or, better yet, why did he _start_ questioning it? This entire ordeal, so far as he can tell, has been questioned to its very core and was still standing… so what _good_ was questioning it going to do?

The worst part, perhaps, is now that Prompto's here… he's questioning things he finally _stopped_ questioning. That should be good, honestly, and he sees the benefits of Prompto's presence. He does, honestly. A fresh set of eyes, access to the ring that Ignis couldn't obtain, an eye for detail with his camera… but Six as his witness, the only thing Ignis _really_ wants to do right now is drag him to the train station, put him on the first train to Altissia and find someone to ensure he gets back to Lucis in one piece _before_ anyone else becomes aware of his presence and connection to… _anyone_.

He knows Prompto isn't leaving, though. As much as any of them _want_ him to go home, he isn't; and, the sooner they all come to terms with that…

A short, bitterly amused smile crosses his face as he considers it. Prompto's presence, aside from being the fresh spark they desperately need, is quickly becoming extra incentive to get home as soon as possible. Before the hellscape around them has a chance to destroy his hope the way it seems to do to everyone else in Niflheim. A constant cloud blocking the sun and making people forget what hope and happiness even felt like… _that_ is not allowed to happen to Prompto. Not when it had affected Noctis long before coming to Niflheim and, honestly, sometimes Ignis is positive that Prompto's the only reason Noctis manages a smile most days. Even before Niflheim happened.

With that in mind, Ignis slowly pulls himself back to his feet. As much as he _doesn't_ want to move around the apartment more than he needs to… Shiva mentioned they were still preparing for Gladio's matches. That gives him time to… try finding something to prepare for dinner. He isn't entirely positive what all he has stocked here; but, hopefully enough to make ends meet. As he's heading towards the kitchen area of the apartment, he finds himself wondering if he should have stayed and made dinner for the younger two… but, just as quickly, he shakes the worry off. Prompto knew his way around the kitchen well enough, Ignis kept Noctis' apartment stocked with… some foods, and Prompto wouldn't let Noctis starve. They would be fine.

As he steps into the kitchen, however, he finds himself _really_ beginning to question the definition of 'fine' all over again. 

This was almost a singular selling point for him accepting his uncle's offer to move into the higher end apartments, even if it meant being under closer watch. Beneath his gloves, he can feel his skin crawling and his fingers begin to itch just as he considers that he'll need to take his gloves off to prepare food. The rust on the old stove eyes is horrifying enough—honestly, before he came to Niflheim, he couldn't remember the last time he saw a removable stove eye; he's gotten far too used to the glass top stove back home. Very specifically, _his_ stove. That doesn't even begin to account for anything else in the space they try to pass off as a kitchen. The counters may have been granite at some point. Faux granite polish, probably, trying to make the rotting wooden frames look nicer—well… they probably were nice, once. Nicer than they are now. Now, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many tricks he tries, he _can't_ get them clean. There's always five and six and _more, every single time_ —always places he can't get clean. 

Even if he makes progress and manages to find the polish beneath the grime and mildew, he never really succeeds in getting all the spots up. Some of them look like burns. Others… others he doesn't want to consider. The sink is almost worse and he's nervous to put even _dirty_ dishes anywhere near the sink. Honestly, it makes him appreciate the abundance of paper plates and bowls and plastic utensils. He doesn't want to think about what the inside of the dishwasher must look like, if it even works. All he knows for certain is that Gladio had more or less forbade him from opening it. For his own sake, he'd said. Ignis hadn't argued and tries to avoid it as much as possible so he isn't tempted.

Before he takes his gloves off, he tries to take stock of just what all Gladio has for food. If he's lucky, he won't have to remove his gloves... though, that would mean the dish would have no meat or vegetables. Both of which would require washing and _washing_ meant turning the sink faucet on and… he really needs to start keeping latex gloves in the apartment. He grumbles and makes that note as he finally reaches up into the barely-holding-together cabinets to assess what's inside.

When he does, however, he's almost immediately distracted by a sudden feeling of warmth and a small smile crosses his face when he spots a box of preparation gloves in the corner. Gladio _would_ … he shakes his prior thought off to put a new pin in this knowledge, with a note to thank him later. Once he pulls the gloves down, his attention travels back to the shelves. Stocking the cabinets is always a rather delicate process… it involves a lot of careful planning and making sure there's never anything too heavy. The cabinets… _look_ sturdy enough; but, honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they just gave in and collapsed one day. He's still waiting for the chairs to collapse, honestly.

He'll need to restock soon, regardless; the cabinets are rather bare, honestly. A few packages of pasta… bread… the little bit of guilty pleasure in the small stacks of Cup Noodle that Ignis _still_ isn't sure where Gladio's getting. He suspects they're a gift from Luna, as Ignis has yet to actually find them in store anywhere nearby. The small six-pack of Ebony is also new and he's honestly not sure if that's a gift or Gladio again going out of his way to try making Ignis a little more comfortable in the apartment.

Cabinets assessed, he moves over to the fridge for a similar assessment. A few protein shakes. Fruits that should probably be eaten or thrown out soon, vegetables in the same state. A little bit of milk that's nearing expiration… and now he's trying to remember why he even bothered buying a small block of Parmesan. He really needs to get into the habit of shopping for these two at the same time so he can better keep track of what they probably do and don't have; but, it's a bit harder when Noctis is more particular about what he eats and less inclined to cook for himself. Not that Ignis blames him, really. He knows Noctis _can_ cook enough to survive… but, honestly, there's only so much incentive in surviving, alone. He again finds himself quietly grateful for Prompto's presence. 

There isn't much… but, there's enough. A quick glance in the small freezer box confirms some frozen shrimp on hand, as well, and… well… it won't be much. Nothing nearly as fulfilling as he's used to making but… honestly, Ignis is slowly… _very_ slowly coming to terms with the fact he won't be able to make anything he's used to until they get home. The downgrade is like the final nail in the coffin that just needs to be hammered down; but… he takes at least some solace in the fact he can at least still cook _something_ every once in a while for his friends. For Gladio.

That thought, along with other idle lists, are the things that turn through his mind as he moves around the kitchen. The latex gloves help, a little, though he's still rather violently against touching anything in the kitchen, even through gloves and latex. But, he pushes it down, mindlessly rummaging through the pots and pans until he finds his desired items; two medium pots… as clean as he could get them. 

Ignis had been absolutely confounded when he left Lucis a few months ago and Weskham had forbade—not even suggested, _forbade_ —him from bringing any of his own kitchen accessories. Now, though… now he's grateful. He still wishes he had his own knives and pots and pans and, Hell, his own _kitchen_ … but, the thought of any of his belongings touching these counters is repulsive as everything else about the situation they're in. He's gotten the pots and pans as clean as he possibly could and none of them have suffered any ill side effects just yet. Still, he'll feel much better when they're back home.

As the pasta boils, Ignis busies himself with cleaning what he can around the apartment in some desperate attempt not to watch the clock too closely. His literal only consolation is that the bed is clean and so is the bathroom. Those he can maintain and the bedroom stays… as clean as they're capable of keeping it. It gives him a way to distract himself from worrying, at any rate. Even after the pasta is set to a low heat to keep it warm, he tries to clean. He makes absolutely no progress against _any_ of the apartment, but… the effort is what matters and it's keeping his mind off worse things.

Apparently, it keeps his mind well enough occupied that he doesn't even hear the front door open. He does, however, hear it close and _that_ makes him straighten, immediately, and listen. The sudden rush and release of tension over the span of seconds makes him lightheaded for a short moment and he lets out a slow, grounding breath when Gladio finally speaks up.

"You the only one here, Igs?" A rather unusual question; but… understandable. He honestly sounds more confused as to where Ignis is as opposed to who all could be in the apartment. So, Ignis takes a small mercy on him when he answers.

"Bedroom. And, yes, I am." He frowns a little when he leans around the bedroom door—honestly, it's not even a door. There may have been a door at some point, but it's long come off it's hinges and… honestly, it would probably just be in the way. It's not as though the apartments offer much privacy, anyways. Noctis' front door didn't even lock proper and neither of Gladio's windows did; that wasn't even accounting for the probability of either of their ceilings eventually collapsing under the rotting build up that came with the old complex being neglected between and during the winter seasons.

He takes some small consolation in the fact that Gladio's body runs at a ridiculous temperature; but… Noctis doesn't quite have that luxury. Prompto doesn't either, for that matter. Another note to add to his ever growing list of things he needs to attend over the next few days. For now…

Ignis' attention is immediately drawn to the fresh bruises peeking out beneath the sleeves and collar of Gladio's shirt as he tosses his jacket towards the couch with a tired exhale. At the very least, he tries to smile when his attention finally lands on Ignis; but, the exhaustion still comes through, "Hey, Specs."

"Well… you don't look too much worse than when we parted ways." Ignis crosses the short distance in a few long strides, gently turning Gladio's face either way and pressing gently to feel for any areas that haven't quite bruised yet. It would be much easier if his already ridiculously high pain tolerance hadn't been fortified over the past three years, but… Ignis takes some solace in the fact that Gladio's yet to really suffer any more facial injuries. 

A perpendicular scar to the one through his eye, that ran across his forehead; but, otherwise… most of the damage was distributed along his torso and arms. His hands. Sometimes his legs, but it was mostly bruised knees from hitting the ground too hard every few weeks. Occasional kicks. Things Ignis is shamefully becoming accustomed to. Not enough he stops checking for injuries, but enough that it doesn't register the way it used to. Enough that he doesn't panic as readily; just… worries. That seems to be rather abundant nowadays, though.

He startles back to attention when Gladio catches his wrists and blinks a few times. Concern lights up amber eyes and Ignis becomes rather painfully aware of the fact that… _apparently_ Gladio was speaking to him. "I… my apologies, I… zoned out for a moment, I just—"

"Easy, Specs… was just tryin' to tell you I'm fine. It's okay, I can wait for a once over." Gladio gives _him_ a quick look over as he's saying that and Ignis finds himself fighting down an annoyed scowl. Apparently, he doesn't quite succeed because his boyfriend grins. "Sorry, but… when y'space out like that? Kinda tellin'. What happened?"

"Should I not be asking _you_ that?"

He doesn't mean for the annoyance to seep into his tone; before he can even think to apologise, though, Gladio just offers a half-hearted shrug.

"Queen was right. Nox Fleuret wasn't into the fight, but… hey, we can make it sell. Second fight wasn't as… whatever they call it. Glamourous?"

" _None_ of the fights are glamourous." Annoyance fades to a rather deadpan tone and Ignis lets out a slow sigh, closing the short distance between them so he can press his forehead to one of Gladio's shoulders. "You're certain you're alright?"

"I mean… Nox Fleuret's still a pain in the ass to fight." He laughs a little, though it's rather painfully lacking in humour. "I'm sore, but I'll live. Probably standin' better than Noct is, at any rate. Heard Tummelt was in a bit of a mood earlier."

"He generally is." Ignis points out and shakes his head a little. Mostly to shake the thoughts off but… also as an excuse to press closer and bury his face in Gladio's neck when he winds his arms up around his torso in a loose hug. "I'm uncertain of too many details but Noct does have a bit of a limp. Whether that was Loqi's doing or not…"

Gladio nods a little, but doesn’t press for any details. 

That, more than anything, finally makes Ignis realise just how far they've actually fallen and makes him appreciate Prompto's presence all the more. If this were Insomnia—Hell, if it were the first few weeks Ignis had been here? He would have had more questions. He would have scrutinized every single injury for origin and Gladio would have wanted as many details as possible. Three years for them, a few months for Ignis… and this was just another day to them. Hell, half the details Ignis even knows are because Prompto was worrying over his shoulder for Noctis' entire physical and that had made Ignis more attentive and ask a few more questions than he normally would have. Normally, he assess the injury, finds the best way to treat it—if he can; and, if he can't, find the best way to ease the pain, at least, until he can get Luna's opinion—and makes as many medical documentations as he can in as much detail as he can without thought for really _why_ he's even doing this.

Statistics and documentation were one thing. Actually questioning the injuries for emotional closure? He'd stopped doing that after the second or third week. For Prompto's sake—and likely his own, now that he's aware of what he's been doing—he'll likely start questioning _everything_ again.

The thought actually brings a small, slightly amused smile to his face. One Gladio can apparently feel against his neck because he makes a questioning noise when he finally brings his arms up to hug Ignis in return, a bit tighter than he really needs to.

"Igs?"

"It's nothing. Well… something. But… not for right now." Ignis leans back enough that he can lean up and press a quick kiss to Gladio's lips before reaching up to tangle his fingers in dark hair. His smile softens and he makes a vague gesture towards the kitchen. "It isn't much, but… some attempt at shrimp alfredo was made… try to eat something? I'll take some over to Noct when I go gather Prompto…"

"Or," Gladio mumbles, leaning down so he can press a kiss to Ignis' neck when he buries his face, "You two can just stay the night. Ain't much, but… they deserve that much, don't they? Unless you think that's a worse idea…?"

At first, Ignis merely hums to confirm he's heard the question while he mulls over the possibilities. _Was_ it dangerous to stay? Prompto had a room at a motel… slight waste of money if he stayed with Noctis—if Noctis even allowed it—but, nothing Ignis wasn't willing to compensate. They would be finding him his own apartment soon enough, after all. Even then, leaving his things unattended was probably unwise… and, if they did go out? It would give Ignis a chance for a short, quick shopping trip just to stock the two apartments…

"I'll ask them for their opinions soon." He promises, after he finally settles his internal debate. A smile returns to his lips when he turns his head, gently coaxing Gladio to do the same, for another kiss. "For now… they deserve their time and I think we've more than earned ours, have we not?"

The grin he gets in response is answer enough. There's still a _lot_ they need to discuss—Shiva's call, most importantly; the cadavers can be a topic for another day, honestly—but, for right now? When Gladio's attention returns to Ignis' neck, to leaving a trail of warm kisses and soft bites; when his arms curl tighter to pull Ignis as close as humanly possible? Ignis decides that those conversations can wait a _little_ bit longer. They've both earned a few minutes to relax and be themselves.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Giants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777492) by [liziscribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/pseuds/liziscribbles)




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